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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 





THE ORATOR'S MANUAL 

IS WHAT IT PURPORTS TO BE, VIZ : 

A Practical 

I think that its method is philosophical and sound, and is devel- 
oped accordinof to the practical judorment of an experienced teacher 
of the subject. — Moses Coit Tyler, Prof, of Eng. Lit., Univ. Michigan. 

I have long wished for just such a book to aid me in the criti- 
cism of preachinsr. It is thorouyhly practical and descends into 
details, really helping the speaker who follows its suggestions 
just where he needs the advice of a practical master. — J. M. Hoppin, 
D.D., Prof, of Homiletics, Yale College. 

We see everywhere in his book the hand of the experienced 
teacher, meeting the difficulties gradually but surely, and overcoming 
them with precision and ease. — The Tutor, Baltimore. 

The completeness and exactness and simplicity of this manual 
as a directory excite my admiration. It is so just and full of nature, 
that I can imagine no course of training better adapted to develop 
every man's own peculiar eloquence, while it fixes a standard of con- 
formity, which must be mdispensable in common. — Alex. T. McGill, 
D.D., LL.D., Prof, of Homiletics, Princeton Theological Seminary. 

The work is evidently that of a skillful teacher, bringing before 
students of oratory the results of philosophical thinking and successful 
experience in an admirable form and a narrow compass. — J. W. 
Churchill, Prof, of Elocution, Andover Theological Seminary. 

and Philosophical Treatise 

Builds on such deep foundations its simple instructions as to 
leave room for no new '• orator's manual "for years. — Chicago Alliance. 

We regard this book as the freshest, clearest, most complete 
and soundly philosophical work on a public speaker's training that 
it has been our fortune to meet. . . . The prefatory remarks are full 
of good sense and ought first to be read. ... A faithful study of . ._ . 
this book will result in a natural, graceful and effective style of public 
speaking. — The Christian Union (ivritten by Prof. J. W. Churchill). 

It is more philosophical and thorough, according to my opin- 
ion, than any other book on the subject. — Prof. John E. Earp, Ph. 
D., Indiana Ashury University. 

on Vocal Culture, 

The portion on Vocal Culture . . . would work an entire revo- 
lution in . . . some speakers, greatly to the satisfaction of their 
hearers. — Central Christian Advocate, St. Louis. 

"The Orator's Manual" is of value not only to public speakers 
but also to singers and to all who wish a pleasing voice. . . . The 
Professor understands the matter, and has given directions which 
any person with ordinary intelligence can carry out. . . . We 
know of no book that embodies our views of correct breathing as well 
as this. — The Voice, Albany, N.Y. 



THE ORATOR S MANUAL. 

Emphasis 

His study of the varying vocal inflections proper for the expression 
of varyinof emotions is surprisingly elaborate, . . . has done more 
... to reduce oratory to an exact science than any other elocutionist 
with whom we have any acquaintance. — Phihidelphin North A men ran. 

The pages devoted to the subject of emphasis are well worth, the 
price of the book. — Hamilton College Litenm/ Monthly. 

An exhaustive study of the elements of emphasis. — Christian 
Union. 

and Gesture, 

Particularly full on the subject of Gestures, showing their 
natural language. — Wisconsin Journal of Education. 

1 have been particularly struck with the value of the chapters on 
Force and Gesticulation — the last a subject greatly neglected and in 
which we modems are children when compared with the ancients. . . 
Action of a dignified and powerful sort is almost unknown. — Prof. 
Hoppin, of the Art School, Yale College. 

With Selections for Declamation and Reading. 

Are made with admirable judgment. — Boston Home Journal. 

Elocution. — Maud asks for a collection of good pieces to speak. 
. . . We cannot do better than to commend to her, and all lovers of 
elocution, . . . "The Orator's Manual." ... It contains a very 
choice selection of pieces for declamation and reading. — New York 
Tribune. 

Designed as a Text-Book for Schools and Colleges, and 

for Public Speakers who are obliged to study 

without an Instructor. 

Hitherto there has been no text-book adapted to the neces- 
sities of the case of overloaded teachers of English. Teachers and 
students will owe a debt of gratitude to Prof. Raymond for the inval- 
uable assistance he has rendered. — J. T. Murfee, Pres. Howard Coll. 

I think it will do just the work I want done in my Freshman 
class. — J. M. Geeri/, Prof. English Literature, Bipon College. 

Very useful, not only as a text-book, . . . but to teachers who 
need some guide, also to private learners. — Wis. Jour, of Education. 

It is undoubtedly the most complete and thorough treatise on 
oratory for the practical student ever published. If you cannot have 
Raymond as an instructor get his book, and if you are a diligent 
student you will find the Professor demonstratinsr on every pairf the 
principles of his art almost as clearly and emphatically as in the 
class-room. — The Educational Weekhf, Chicago. 



^^ The special attention of Teachers is called to the 
suggestions in the Preface for the proper method of using 
this book. 



THE 

ORATOR'S MANUAL; 

A PRACTICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL TREATISE ON" 

VOCAL CULTURE, EMPHASIS AND GESTURE, 

TOGETHER WITH HiNTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF OrATIONS AND 

SELECTlOiVS FOR DECLAMATION AND HEADING. 



Designed as a Text-Book for Schools and Colleges, and for Public 
Speakers and Readers who are obliged to study 



WITHOUT AN INSTRUCTOR. 



By GEORGE L. RAYMOND, L.H.D., 

formerly professor of oratory and esthetic criticism, and SUBSEQUENTLY OJ 

ESTHETICS IN PRINCETON UNIVERSITY ; AUTHOR OF " ART IN THEORY," 

" POETRY AS A REPRESENTATIVE ART," '" RHYTHM AND 

HARMONY IN POETRY AND MUSIC," " THE 

GENESIS OF ART FORM," ETC. 



FULLY REVISED WITH IMPORTANT ADDITIONS AFTER THE 
FIFTEENTH EDITION 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 
^Tbe IRnicfterbocfter press 






Copyright, 1879, 
By S. C. GRIGGS AND COMPANY. 



Copyright, 1897, 
By silver, BURDETT AND COMPANl 



Copyright, 1910, 
By G. p. PUTNAM'S SONS. 



C CU27sr)()7 



PEE FACE. 



1. This book has been prepared to supply a want felt by the authoi 
while giving instruction in his own classes, and felt, as he beheves, 
by many overworked teachers who often, without making a specialty 
of elocution, desire to give efficient instruction in it, yet have no 
manual at hand enabling them to do this, without a great expendi- 
ture of time and trouble. It is intended to present, in concise and 
comprehensive form, some new material, the results of the author's 
own experience in teaching; but over and beyond this to be a com- 
pend, amply illustrated, of the best that has been published or 
taught on the subject of which it treats with each department of the 
art so described that its methods shall be distinctly apprehended, 
so explained that the principles underlying their use shall be easily 
understood, and so few that they can be readily applied. 

2. In many of its features, Oratory resembles music. A man can 
no more declaim weU who has not passed the point where he is 
obliged to exhaust his mental energy in calculating how to modulate 
his voice in his inflections, or to move his hands in his gestures, than 
he can smg or play well while his attention is constantly turning 
from his theme in order to think how he shaU form his notes in 
his throat, or use his fingers upon his instrument. Such things as 
these, before his performance can be easy, natural, expressive and 
eifective, must be done automatically, as a result of persistent prac- 
tice. So in Oratory. Certain things must be done automatically; 
and that they may be done thus, and at the same time correctly, 
the student must begin by practicing according to methods very 
accurately described to him. This fact is a sufficient excuse for 
the minute and fall directions contained in this book, — those, for 
instance, referring to the methods of using the lungs and throat, of 
starting and ending inflections, of moving and holding the arms and 
hands in the gestures, etc. It is thought that they will be found to 
be of exceptional value, not only to students of elocution, but also to 
teachers ; and though it is not supposed that they can take the place 
of competent oral instruction, especially with those just entering 

3 



upon the study, yet they will fail of their object if they do not prove 
to be just what are needed by clergymen and other public speakers 
who, for any reason, are unable to obtain the services of an instructor. 

3. But besides describing the elements of the art, and how to 
acquire facility in using them, a manual of this sort must direct the 
student when and where to use them. Elocution, like music, must 
deal with the great subject of expression. And here the important 
matter is to ground the principles presented not on the letter of 
passages but on their spirit; not on the phraseology but on the 
mind's attitude toward the phraseology, upon one's judgment of the 
thought that it contains, upon his motive in using it, and upon 
the degree of energy or kind of feeling which it awakens in him. 
In proportion as these requirements are met by the directions that 
are given him, a man may speak according to rule and yet main- 
tain his individuality and freedom. His knowledge of the art of 
elocution will be merely a knowledge of the art of expressing, and 
of impressing on others, his own meanings, motives and feelings. 
He will be a master and not a slave of the rules that he follows. 

4. Once more : any number of rules all of which must be applied 
with as little forethought as in speaking, must be few; otherwise 
the mind will be so burdened in trying to recall them that it will not 
be able to act readily in using them. Great pains have been taken 
in this book, by means of classifications and diagrams, to reduce the 
general principles that need to be emphasized to a minimum ; but at 
the same time to make each of these so comprehensive that all of 
them together shall include a treatment of the whole subject. 

5. On this point, — in trying to devise how the art may be 
taught and mastered with the least possible waste of time and labor, 
the author has expended no little thought. It is impossible to refer 
here to all the "short-cuts" that this book recommends. But as an 
aid to teachers who have not yet matured their courses of instruction, 
some suggestions based on his own experience and methods may not 
prove unacceptable. 

6. With a class as a whole, it seems best to begin by teaching 
something about emphasis and gesture. The least experienced student 
can understand why these subjects need to be studied ; but, as a rule, 
it is only after he has been led, through studying them, to realize 
the deficiencies in his own voice that he is prepared to devote him- 



self to vocal culture proper with the persistency that it demands. 
As an introduction to the general study, therefore, the author would 
recommend — and not only to teachers assigning lessons from this 
book, but also to those who are studying without a teacher — the use 
of § 201. The statements which will be found there, and which the 
instructor may easily explain and illustrate to his pupils, present in 
compact form about all the qualities of expression that successful 
oratory, however characteristic of individuals, universally possesses, 
and, by consequence, about all that it is safe to teach to a class as a 
whole. Aside from what this section contains, most of the instruction 
in emphasis must be given to individuals in private; otherwise some 
of the students, imagining themselves to be deficient in directions 
where they are not so, may be led to exaggerate excellencies that 
they have by nature, or to cultivate artificiality in a vain attempt to 
avoid supposed faults. 

7. In addition to learning these general piinciples underlying 
emphasis, it is well also for the student, at the yery beginning of his 
course, to be made acquainted with the meaning of the different 
gestures (§§ 172-175) each of which he should also be shown exactly 
how to make. 

8. It is after this prehminary work that we come to our first real 
difficulty. In teaching any branch that partakes of the nature of art, 
it is not enough to explain how and why certain things should be 
done. The instructor or the pupil has to see to it that they are done. 
In other words, the pupil must drill himself or be drilled until it 
becomes a habit with him to do them instinctively, or until he gains 
such control of himself as to be able to do them voluntarily. 

9. In attaining this end there seems to be no course so efficient as 
to assign, as a lesson, a marked passage (that in § 209 has been used 
with satisfactory results, and there are twenty-five others among 
the SELECTIONS for declamation) and have pupils declaim it in 
private as many times as may be necessary in order to render their 
performance satisfactory. Out of a class numbering sixty or seventy, 
all but one or two, on their first appearance, will need to be coiTected 
on every line ; but after the third or fourth attempt hardly one will 
have failed to acquire all that the exercise is designed to teach. 

10. After this, when able to make at will the different kinds of 
inflections, etc., it is well to have students read passages illustrative 



6 PREFACE. 

of such notes as are given in § 201 ; to declaim other passages of their 
own selection ; to read more selected by the mstructor for the pur- 
pose of showing them their individual faults and how to correct 
them ; and from this time forward, to copy declamations and original 
orations on alternate lines of paper ; to mark them with appropriate 
indications of emphasis and gesture ; to explain the marks ; to receive 
corrections on the same ; and to declaim the pieces as many times as 
may be necessary in order to render their performance satisfactory. 
During their rehearsals, the attention of students will of course be 
directed to those qualities of delivery in which, as individuals, they 
are deficient. As for vocal culture, in large institutions, it may be 
made optional, and comparatively few students will neglect it after 
they have once fairly entered upon a course of instruction such as 
has been described. 

11. A word now as to the efficacy of such instruction and of such 
methods of imparting it. Of course some will be skeptical with 
reference to them. In fact there are many who seem to imagine 
that the orator, like the poet, is born and not made; that his art, 
therefore, cannot be learned, and need not be taught ; or, at least, 
that sufficient is done toward cultivating it when young men are 
merely required to declaim, at stated intervals, before their class- 
mates, or are incited to exert themselves on particular occasions by 
a system of prizes, public exhibitions or debates. Many seem to 
think that the energy stimulated by emulation or the presence of a 
crowd is all that is necessary to develop the powers of latent genius 
—to burst the chrysalis of common- place and reveal the full-fledged 
orator. Even if they be not mistaken in their general theory, do 
they suppose that the influence of stimulus of this kind is adapted to 
reach any very large proportion of the students? Are not the 
majority of those whom it does reach incited mainly to continue to 
repeat, and so to confirm, as habits, their own pecuhar faults'? 
Is there no danger that it may induce the members of a college 
whose oratory is cultivated only by such performances, to mistake 
mere energy for eloquence and mere declamatory force for impress- 
iveness? Undoubtedly there are some eff'ective speakers — though 
their number is much smaller than is usually supposed — who have 
never studied elocution. But of the majority of these it may be said 
that if they do not belong to that unfortunate class whose delivery, 



because they have never learned to modulate their voices, becomes 
unpleasantly artificial and bombastic the moment that they become 
excited, they usually belong to that other class, equally unfortunate, 
whose delivery becomes dull and lifeless the moment that they 
lose their excitement ; or as is sometimes the case, lose only the spon- 
taneity of their utterance, because thej are fettered as they affirm, 
by being obliged to read from a prepared manuscript. Elocution is 
the art of speaking or reading naturally when one is excited, impress- 
ively when not excited, and in an interesting manner at all times. 
Its effects are the results of causes, of certain ways of using the voice, 
which now and then a born orator may manifest under all circum- 
stances, which many manifest when greatly interested or excited, 
but which the majority of men never manifest at all except after they 
have been shown what these ways are, and have acquired the art of 
reproducing them in their own delivery. 

12. How much can culture do toward bringing the two latter 
classes up to the level of the born orator? — toward making them 
speak and read well under all circumstances, even when there is 
nothing extraordinary to excite or interest them? It becomes one 
who is preparing a book to be used where the results of his own 
instruction are present facts, and who is supposed to be speaking 
from his own experience, to use some reserve in answering a question 
such as this — especially so inasmuch as the limitations which condition 
every college department, render it inevitable that there should be 
always some students upon whom its methods do not have their 
perfect work. When one is expected to teach English literature, 
aesthetics and rhetoric as well as Oratory proper, as during a part of 
the time the author has done ; or when, for other reasons, his time 
for drill is limited, he cannot fail to be conscious of how much more 
might be done than has been done. Enough has been done, how- 
ever, with the nine different college classes that he has met, to 
make him believe that it is only a question of time and patience, and 
any person, not physically incapacitated, may be made to become an 
interesting and attractive speaker. By this is meant that he can be 
cured of indistinct and defective articulation, of unnatural and false 
tones, and of awkwardness ; and be trained to have a clear, resonant 
voice, an unaffected and forcible way of modulating it so as to have it 
represent the sense, and a dignity and ease of bearing-; aU of which, 



8 PREFACE. 

together shall enable hira to continue to hold the attention of an 
audience so long as it is possible for any qualities of manner aside 
from matter to do so. It needs to be emphasized, moreover, that a 
capacity for the very highest excellence — even for what appears to be 
the most inborn kind of eloquence and grace — is often developed in 
those who, at the beginning of their training, are the most unprom- 
ising. 

13. If there be any who read this and doubt these statements, 
and who have influence among the trustees or faculties of the hun- 
dreds of colleges in our country in which no instruction worthy to be 
called instruction is given in this department, let them not doubt, at 
least, that in a land like ours where so many avenues of influence 
are open to those who can speak well in public, no institution is 
doing its duty by the young men committed to its charge that does 
not furnish them with such a course of training as to allow them to 
discover — it can be put stronger than this — as to force them to 
discover their aptitudes for oratory if they have any. 

14. Before closing, the author wishes to express his sense of 
indebtedness for valuable suggestions, with reference to the subjects 
treated in this book, over and beyond what seems to be common 
property, to S. M. Cleveland, M.D., of Philadelphia, formerly Pro- 
fessor of Rhetoric and Oratory, in the University of Pennsylvania; 
C. J. Plumptre, author of "Lectures on Elocution" in King's 
College, London, and Emilio Belari, Professeur de Chant, Paris ; 
also to the following, especially, among the many works of merit on 
elocution that have been written in this country: "The Philosophy 
of the Human Voice," by James Rush, M.D., " The Culture of the 
Voice," by James E.Murdoch and William Russell; "Reasonable 
Elocution," by F. Taverner Graham, and the various publications of 
Professor L. B. Monroe, of the Boston School of Oratory. 

It is thought that the black letters, italics, and different kinds of 
type and "leading" that have been liberally used in the text of this 
work, will make it more serviceable as a manual, — enabling pro- 
fessional men, who have no time to waste, and younger students who 
otherwise might overlook important principles, to detect with a single 
glance of the eye down any given page, what is the main topic of 
which it treats and what are the chief statements, often greatly con- 
densed, that are made concerning it. 



OONTE]:^5"TS. 



VOCAL CULTURE. 

General Directions how to use the organs — Nostrils § 1, 
Abdomen § 2, Mouth § 3; how to form the Vowels § 4. 
Table showing- Vowel- Sounds § 5; how to form Consonants 
and Consonant- Combinations § 6 13 

Exercises for Practice ; Positions, Active and Passive 
Chest, Waist, Arm, Neck and Throat Movements § 7; 
Breathing § 8; Vocal Cords § 9; Elementary Vowel- Sounds 
§ 10; Consonant- Sounds § 11; Exercises for Advanced 
Scholars in Vowels, Consonants, Pitch, Time, Force and 
Stress §§ 12-16 23 

EMPHASIS. 
General Principle § 18; Antithetic, Transferred, Associative 

Emphasis, and by Attraction and Personation, §§ 19-23; 

Reading the Bible § 24; how to determine Emphasis § 25 - 31 
Elements of Emphasis as derived from Accentuation and 

Rhythm §§ 26-28; Classification of the Elements §§ 29-31; 

their Significance § 32; the Method of Studying them - 34 

TIME. 

Elocutionary Pauses § 35; Quantity § 39; Movement § 40; 
the didactic, detailed, strange, etc. §41; Quotations, Illus- 
trations, Parentheses, etc. -------41 



Inflections — Emphatic Slides, Significance of, §43; method 
of giving, § 45; length of, § 46; Chart showing use of Rising 
and Falling Inflections § 47; showing Motives, not Phraseol- 
ogy, as the criterion of their use § 53; Chart of Contrasted 
Motives with same Phraseology § 63 ; of Circumflex Inflec- 
tions § 67; Starting Key of Slide or Slide Balance § 75 - 47 



10 CONTENTS. 

Melody, Emphatic Slides as related to, § 79 — the Cadence §82; 
the Climax § 83; Melody appropriate for different parts of 
an Oration § 85; Unemphatic Slides as related to Melody — 
Discrete and Concrete Tones § 86; Diatonic and Semitonic 
Melody § 88; Varied and Unvaried Melody in Mirth, Aston- 
ishment, Adoration, Contrition, Horror, etc., §92; Monotone 
§93; Poetic Monotone §95 63 

Key „ ... 74 

FORCE. 

Special Force § 98; Stress § 99; Initial § 100; Terminal 
§ 101; Median § 102; Compound § 103; Thorough §104; 
Tremulous § 105 75 

General Force — Abrupt, loud and soft § 107; Smooth, loud 
and soft § 108; Sustained, explosive, expulsive and effusive 
§109; Natural, explosive, expulsive and effusive §113; Sup- 
pressed, explosive, expulsive and effusive § 117 - - - 85 

VOLUME. 

Special Volume § 121; Quality § 122; Aspirate § 123; Gut- 
tural § 125; Pectoral § 128; Pure § 131; Orotund § 135; 
Nasal and Oral, § 138 93 

ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IN COMBINATION. 

Chart § 140; Representative Combinations § 141; Regular 
Combinations § 142; Irregular Combinations § 145; Transi- 
tions and Modulation § 147; Massing or Grouping, the 
Emphatic Tye, § 152; Drift § 154 106 

GESTURE. 

Positions, when not gesticulating, of Head and Trunk, Hands 
and Arms, Feet and Legs 125 

Objective Gestures — Head and Trunk, the Bow, §165; 
Hands and Arms § 166; Significance of Movements, up- 
ward, downward, and about the body, § 168; of the Opening 
Hand § 171; of Closing Hand § 172; of Fmger and Fist 
§ 173; of Double.Gestures § 174. Chart showing Significance 
of Gestures § 175. Methods of forming Gestures, Illustrations, 
§ 176; Movements Preparatory for Gestures and their Sig- 
nificance § 180; Return and Combinations of Gestures § 187; 
Examples for Practice § T92 128 

The Countenance — Eye, Forehead, Nose, Lips, etc.; Comic 
Effects 146 

Subjective Gestures — Chart of Dramatic Gestures ° -149 



COIs'TEl^TSo 



11 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 

Recapitulation of Elementary Principles § 201; Meaning of 
Marks § 202; Directions, Preliminary Exercise in Declama- 
tion, § 209 151 

VEHEMENT, YIGOROUS AND APPELLATORY SELECTIONS. 

Assertive, Positive Style: Mainly Down-ward Inflections, §211. 
*Reply to Mr. Flood . - . . Henry Grattan, 158 
Reply to the Duke of Grafton - - Lord Thurlow, 160 

*Parliamentary Reform - - - - Lord Brougham, 161 
"*0n the Irish Disturbance Bill - - Daniel O'Connell, 163 
*Employment of Indians in the American War Earl of Chatham , 164 



Consequences of the American War 
*The Condition of Ireland 
Against Curtailing the Right of Sufirage 
Resistance to British Aggression 
*The War Inevitable, March, 1775 - 
*The Declaration of Independence - 
*Northern Laborers . . - - 

The American Sailor . . - - 
Ambition of a Statesman . - - 
Rienzi's Address to the Romans 
The Seminole's Defiance - . - 

CivH War the Greatest National Evil, 1829 
Union with Great Britain, 1800 
Reply to Lord North, 1774 - 
Enmity Toward Great Britain . - 
The South during the Revolution, 1830 - 
South Carolina and Massachusetts, 1830 - 
Military Supremacy Dangerous to Liberty 



Earl of Chatham, 165 
T. F. Meagher, 167 
Victor Hugo, 
Patrick Henry, 
Patrick Henry, 
Daniel Webster, 
C. Naylor, 
R. F. Stockton, 
Henry Clay, 
Mary R. Mifford, 
G. W. Patten, 
Lord Palmerston, 181 
Henry Grattan, 183 
Col. Barre, 184 

Rufus Choate, 186 
Rolert Y. Hayne, 188 
Daniel Welster, 189 
Henry Clay, 191 



168 
170 
172 
173 
175 
176 
178 
179 
181 



Controversial, Interrogative Style: Frequent Rising- 
Inflections, § 212. 

*The Expunging Resolution, 1837 - - Henry Clay, 192 

On the Judiciary Act ... - Oouv. Morris, 194 

Against the Embargo, 1808 ... Josiah Qiiincy, 195 

Cicero Against Yerres ... - Marcus T. Cicero, 196 

*British Influence, 181'' - - - = John Randolph, 198 

Irish Agitators Richard L. Sheil, 200 

Military Qualifications Distinct from Civil, 1828 John Sergeant, 201 
* Marked for Emphasis and Gestureo 



12 CONTENTS. 

Antithetical and Ironical Style: Circunaflex Inflections, §213. 

*Thc Right to Tax America - - ^ Edmund Burke, 203 

*The Partition of Poland - - - Charles J. Fox, 204 

*Catiline to the Gallic Conspirators • Rev. G. Crohj, 205 

*Catiline's Defiance .... jiev. G. Crohj, 207 

Reply to Mr. Corry .... Henry Gratian, 209 

Our Relations to England, 1824 - - Edivard Everett, 211 

*Rolla's Address to the Peruvians - - R. B. Sheridan, 212 

Caesar Passing the Rubicon - - - J. S. Knoivles, 213 
Graphic, Delineative Style: Anecdotes and their 
Applications, § 214. 

*The Last Charge of Ney - - - J. T. Headley, 214 

Regulus to the Carthaginians - - - E. Kellogg, 216 

Spartacus to the Gladiators - - - E. Kellogg, 219 

Spartacus to the Roman Envoys - - 222 

Marullus to the Roman Populace - - ShaJcspeare, 224 

William Tell on Switzerland - - - J. S. Knoivles, 225 

William Tell Among the Mountains - J. S. Knoivles, 226 

*Dangerous Legislation, 1849 - - - J. McDowell, 226 

Public Opinion and the Sword - - T. B. Macaulay, 229 

A Reminiscence of Lexington - - Theodore ParTcer, 230 

Irish Grievances Richard L. Sheil, 232 

Elaborative Style: The Climax, §215. 

*Examples for Ireland - - - - T.F. Meagher, 233 

Great Britain and America ... Neivman Hall, 235 

The Cause of Temperance ... John B. Gough, 237 

Duty of America to Greece - - - Henry Clay, 239 

ANIMATED AND EXPOSITORY SELECTIONS. 
Explanatory and Categorical, § 217. 

*Small Beginnings of Great Hist'l Movements G. S. Hillard, 241 

In Behalf of Starving Ireland - - S.S. Prentiss, 243 

Danger of the Spirit of Conquest - - Thomas Corwin, 244 

Hamlet's Instructions . . - - Shakspcare, 246 

Demonstrative and Diffusive, § 218. 

^Ignorance in our Country a Crime - Horace Mann, 247 

Character of Washington - - - Charles Phillips, 249 

Destiny of America . - - . Charles Phillips, 250 

Eulogy on Lafayette . = . . Edward Everett, 251 

* Marked for Emphasie and Gesture. 



CONTEXTS. 13 

The True Kings of the Earth - - - John RiisJcm, 253 

The American Flag - - - - J, E. Drake, 254 

Look Aloft J. Lawrence, 256 

Fall of Warsaw Thomas Campbell, 256 

Illustrative Style: References to Man and Nature, §219. 

*Sufferings and Destiny of the Pilgrims - Edivard Everett, 258 

Nations and Humanity - - - = George W. Curtis, 260 

An Appeal to the People - = = John Bright, 262 

DIGNIFIED AND GRAVEo 

*GaHleo Galilei .... - Edward Everett, 263 

Crime its own Detector - - = » Daniel Webster, 265 

Adams and Jefferson - = . - Edward Everett, 266 

Death of Copernicus ^ = . - Edivard Everett, 268 

Speech of Vindication - . - . Robert Emm eft, 269 

Death of John Q. Adams - - - L E. Holmes, 271 

DRAMATIC AND DESCRIPTIVE. 

Fast Movement, § 222„ 

Lochinvar's Ride ^^V Walter Scott, 273 

How they Brought the Good News from Ghent, Robert Browning, 274 

Moderately Fast Movement, § 223. 

The Battle of Ivry T, B. Macaulaij, 276 

The Burial March of Dundee - - - Wm. E. Aijtoim, 277 

Marmion and Douglas ... - Sir Walter Scott, 280 

The Song of the Camp - - - - Bayard Taylor, 282 

Moderate Movement, § 224. 

The Wreck of the Hesperus - - - H. W. Loiigfellotv, 28d 

Marco Bozzaris . - , - ^ FitzG. Halleck, 286 

The Launching of the Ship - - - H.W. Longfelloiv, 287 

Three Days in the Life of Columbus - Delavigne, 289 

Moderately Slow Movement, § 225. 

The Baron's Last Banquet - - - A. G. Greene, 291 

Horatius at the Bridge - - - - T. B. Macaiday, 292 

The Sailor Boy's Dream - - - = Dimond, 294 

The Relief of Lucknow - - - - Robert Lowell, 296 

Charge of the Light Brigade - - - Alfred Tennyson, 298 

The Bugle Song Alfred Tennyson, 299 

The Dying Christian to his Soul - - Alexander Pope, 300 

The Burial of Moses - . . - Mrs. Alexander, 300 

* Marked for Emphasis and GesturCo 



14 



CONTEXTS. 



Slow Movement: Descriptions of Natural Scenery, §226. 

*The Sky, John Buskin, 301 

Avalanches of Jungfrau Alp, - - - G. B. Cheever, 303 

The First View of the Heavens, - - 0. M. Mitchel, 305 
*Chaniouny, - - - ■ - - - Samuel T. Coleridge, 306 

Thanatopsis, William C. Bryant, 308 

HUMOROUS. 

Hobbies, T. DeWitt Talmage,Sn 

The Bachelor's Soliloquy, - - - , 312 

Miss Maloney on the Chinese Question, - Scrihners Monthly, 313 

Brother Watkins, John B. Gough, 315 

A Catastrophe, , 316 

Buzfuz versus Pickwick, - - - - Charles Dickens, 317 

Speech of M. Hector DeLong-uebeau, - T.Mosely, 321 

Caudle has been Made a Mason, - - Douglas Jerrold, 322 

The Jester Condemned, - - - - Horace Smith, 323 

A Modest Wit, - - - - - Anonymous, 324 

The Shadow on the Blind, - - , 326 

The March to Moscow, - - - - Rolert Southey, 328 

History of John Day, - - - - Thomas Hood, 330 

Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog, - - Oliver Goldsmith, 332 

Truth in Parentheses, . - - - Thomas Hood, 333 

PATHETIC. 

The Leper, N. P. Willis, 334 

TTie Bridge of Sighs, - - - - Thomas Hood, 337 

David's Lament for Absalom, - - - N. P. Willis, 340 

ADDED TO THE FIFTEENTH EDITION. 

Appendix I: Hints for Composition of Orations, - - 342 

Appendix II: The Organs of Vocal Expression, - . 361 

* Marked for Emphasis. 



iIi:^The author is under obligations to Messrs. Houghton, Os- 
good & Co., Charles Scribner's Sons, and other publishers, as well 
as to Robert Lowell, Epes Sargent, and several authors, holding 
the copyrights of various Selections in the following pages, for 
their kind permission to use the same, 



ORATOR'S MANUAL. 



VOCAL OULTUEE. 

GENERAL DIRECTIONS HOW TO USE THE ORGAiNS WHILE 
BREATHING, VOCALIZING AND ARTICULATING. 

1. When not prevented by catarrh, other nasal obstruc- 
tions, or the requirements of rapid speaking, inhale 
through the nostrils. 

a. These warm and filter the air, and thus prevent it from either 
chilling or irritating the vocal passages and so causing huskiness. 

2. Always draw the air into the lungs by making the 
abdomen press forward, and force the air out, whether 
vocalized or not, by contracting the abdomen, or making it 
sink in. 

a. Under the breathing and over the digestive organs, separat- 
ing the two, is the diaphragm, the muscles of which are so formed 
as to act in the lungs like a piston in a pump's cylinder. These are 
the only muscles in the body so made and placed as to draw into the 
lungs all the air possible; or to force it out of them in such a way 
as to produce the most powerful and effective sounds. When this 
diaphragm sinks, to draw in the air, it crowds down the abdomen 
and pushes it outward. When the diaphragm rises, to force out the 
air, it contracts and draws in the abdomen. Babes and strong men 
breath and speak thus, naturally. Weak persons, and those who 
sit or stoop much, acquire a habit of using mainly the muscles of the 
upper chest, the lifting of which, in order to inhale, draws the abdo- 
men in, and the dropping of which, m order to exhale, forces the 
abdomen out. This habit weakens the lower lungs, by keeping one 
from using them. It weakens, also, the upper lungs, by employ- 

15 



16 orator's manual. 

ing them for a pui'pose for wnich they are not fitted. Besides this, 
as it does not expel the air from the bottom of the lungs, H lessens 
the quantity of hreath used in vocalizing ; and also, as the chest, 
■while one is speaking thus, contracts the upper bronchial tubes, 
which otherwise would expand and vibrate during the utterance, it 
lessens the resonance of the tones. 

t). The proper order in deep breathing is to expand first the 
abdomen, i. e. the front, and at the same time the sides and back 
of the waist, then the lower ribs at the sides, then the upper chest; 
and in exhaling, to contract first the abdomen and waist, then the 
lower ribs at the sides, and last, the chest. This will be acquired 
through the exercises in § 8. 

c. To acquire the use of the diaphi'cigm iji vocalizing, after inhal- 
ing, draw in the abdomen suddenly, by an act of will, and at the 
same time gently cough out hoo-ho-haiv or hah, as in the exer- 
cise in § 10. After a few days the contraction of the abdomen, 
which at first is merely produced at the same time as the vocal utter- 
ance, will come to be the cause that produces it. 

3. Always mould or artiCTllate vowels and consonants 
as near the lips and as far from the throat as possible. 

a. The passages of the nose, and of the throat near to the vocal 
cords, are designed to act on the voice mainly as a bell's cavity, 
to throw the tones forward, or give them resonance. When they 
share in the contraction of the muscles that takes place in articu- 
lating, the strength and sweetness of the voice, as well as the 
health of these passages, is impaired. In acquiring the proper use 
of these organs, the first thing is to get the muscles in the back 
part of the mouth in the habit of expanding to let the sounds come 
forward. Hence the silent muscular exercises — those of coughing, 
yawning, gasping, sobbing and laughing — and the continued prac- 
tice (which must be attempted many times before even the sounds 
can be produced properly) of the elementary vowel sounds of oh, 
aiv and ah, recommended in §§ 7-10. 

Bt^* What has been said of the nature and functions of the organs 
used in producing words will be found to contain, in concise form, all 
that the ordinary student of elocution needs to know for practical 
purposes, i. e. to enable him to understand the general reasons 
underlying the methods prescribed in the exercises §§ 7-15. Those 
who wish to study these subjects theoretically and thoroughly will 
of course consult some good anatomy. See also pages 360-364. 



VOWEL SOUis^DS. 17 

4. When one's articulation is defective, he should find 
out what letters or combinations of letters represent the 
sounds that he fails to give, and learn how to adjust the 
organs of his mouth so as to frame these letters properly. 
For the benefit of such the following directions are inserted. 
Comparatively few will be obliged to study them. 

Vowels. 

a in ah. Draw in the breath as if about to yawn; then with the 
teeth about three-fourths of an inch apart, lips drawn back from 
them, mouth open laterally at the back, tong-ue drawn down with 
its middle's side-edges slightly curled up, throw forward the tone, 
forming the sound just forward of the palate. {See, also, § 10.) 

a in all. Same as above. With the lips less drawn back, lower 
jaw pushed forward a little, tongue relaxed in lower part of mouth, 
its tip touching lower teeth, form the sound just under the palate. 
(See%10.) 

a in at. Draw in the breath naturally, then same as last. With 
the center of the tongue more elevated and its side-edges up,, form 
the sound in front of palate. 

a in ale. Same. With mouth less open and the center of the 
tongue more elevated, its side-edges touching the upper back teeth, 
form the sound between these. 

e in eve. With the upper and lower teeth near (not touching) 
each other, lower jaw slightly projecting, lips apart and sides of the 
mouth drawn slightly back, showing the eye-teeth, tongue against 
upper back teeth, its tip almost touching the roof of the mouth 
just back of the upper front inside gums, form the sound between 
the tip of the tongue and the roof of the mouth just back of the 
upper eye-teeth. 

e in end. Same position as in a in ale, but uttered more rapidly 
and with the tip of the tongue slightly lower down. 

e in her. Same position as in the last, except that the tongue is 
curled up against the roof of the mouth about one quarter of an 
inch back of the upper front teeth. The final r is then formed by 
pushing the tip of the tongue against the roof of the mouth, leaving 
a small space between the two, 

i in it. Same position as in e in eve, but uttered more rapidly, 
with the front of the tongue slightly lower down. 

i in ice. Begin with the position of a in ah, and pass at once to 
that of i in it. 

o in no. With the teeth apart as in ah, but the lips pushed over 
them, forming an oval in front, the cheeks slightly drawn in, the 
lower jaw thrust forward, and the tongue drawn back, form the 
gound just behind the upper and lower front gums. 

o in on. Same position as in a in ah, but uttered more rapidly. 
{See § 5.) 

1* 



18 ORATORS MANUAL. 

oo in hook and ooze. Take the position of o in no, then push the 
Hps nearer together and farther forward in hook, and still farther 
forward in ooze. The sound in both cases is made between the lips. 

oi in oU. Begin with the position of a in all, and pass at once 
to that of / in in. 

OU in our. Begin with the position of o in on, and pass at once 
to that of 00 in ooze. 

u in up. With the teeth as near together as in e in eve, the lips 
apart in a natural position, the tongue relaxed and full, its tip 
against the lower front teeth, make the sound just under the uvula, 
by a slight forward movement of the lower jaw. 

u in use. Begin with the position of e in eve, and pass at once 
to that of 00. 

u in hull. Same as oo in look shortened. 

a, 6, i, o, u, y, aw, ew, ow, in any, they, marine, fir, son, 
ivolf, or, rude, my, very, law, few, now, represent respectively the 
same sounds as are in end, ale, eve, her, up, hull, all, ooze, ice, in, 
all, use, our. 

The following table has been arranged so as to show, when read 
up and down, how the vowel sounds apj)roach each other, but chiefly 
to bring out another important fact, v^hich, strangely enough to one 
who considers how much the position of the tongue has to do with the 
vowel sounds, seems hitherto to have been almost entirely overlooked . 

5. Table showing Vowel Sounds, and how they 

are modified by consonant sounds that follow them: 

In each line below, when read across the page, the vowel sound 
is the same, hut, whenever one pronounces it quickly and naturally, 
the consonant following it changes the position of the tongue, so 
that, instinctively and necessarily, this is 

1 2 3 

Drawn up Curled up 

Am. against the slightly, Brought forward 

Phii. Single mouth's roof, lengthened, flat- still more, and flat- 

Soc. Vowel thickened tened behind tened behind, thus 

Phon. Sounds. behind and and loosened, still more opening 

Rep. contracted, thus thus opening the the back of the 

closing the back back of mouth, 

of the mouth. the mouth. 

I i, i y, it in spirit quill quiz rhythm 

E e, e, met men merit mellow essence death 

A a, a, fat fan fare fallow ask* bath* 

Q a, a 6, what pond far* folly oscillate father* 

0, a O au, God dawn or all exhaust author 

0, o, boat bone bore bowl gross loathe 

(Jo, e e ii, but bun bur* bulb buzz mother 

U 1^1, 00 u, put book wool pull puss butcher 

ii o'o, moot moon poor pool loose booth 

* Tliose wlio are manufacturing jjlionclic alpluibets should notice that tho 
peculiar sound of the vowel that distinguishes auk and bath iromfat,far and 



COi^SO:N"A]S'T SOUXDS. 19 



meet 


mean 


mere 


meal 


knees 


breathe 


late 


lain 


layer 


flail 


lays 


lathe 


fight 


fine 


fire 


file 


rise 


writhe 


out 


town 


our 


owl 


browse 


mouthing 


adroit 


loin 




boil 


poise 




patriot 


minion 


familiar 


genial 


fractious 




refute 


impugn 


pure 


mule 


music 






Consonants. 









Double vowel sounds : ' 

I fe (i e), ea ee, 
6. Q (e a), aaiay, 
i i (a i), i ie y, 
QU au, ou ow, 
OI ei, 01 oy, 
lU iu, iaioiu, 
ij ii (i u), u eu, 



6. These are divided into sub-vocals, which are all uttered with a 
murmuring sound which one should learn to prolong and make loud; 
and asjm'ates, which are produced by a current of the whispering 
breath, forced through certain positions of the lips, tongue or palate. 

I. Suh-vocals that have no corresponding Aspirates. 

a. In these, the breath passes thivugh the nostrils: 
The lips are closed in m in moon. 

The lips are open in n in noon, and the tongue's tip touches 
upper inside front gums. 

The lips are open in ng in anguish, and the tongue's middle 
touches the palate. 

b. In these, the breath passes through the mouth: 

The tip of the tongue in 1 in divell touches the mouth's roof just 
behind the upper inside front gums, and the breath passes around 
the tip at either side of the tongue. 

The tip of the tongue in y in your is down, its sides touch the 
upper side teeth, and the breath passes between its middle and the 
palate. 

The sides of the tongue in r in row touch the upper side teeth, 
the tip is turned upward and backward, and the breath passes be- 
tween it and a point in the mouth's roof about half an inch behind 
the gums. 

The tongue in r in core is slightly farther forward. 

II. Sub-vocals, with their corresponding Aspirates. 

a. In these the breath is checked and confined till the organs 
separate to give it explosive vent. This separation is in the 

father from what, and bur from but, depends on the following consonant, and 
therefore needs no separate vowel representative. AsJc and bath are to fat, as 
quiz and rhythin to it, buzz and mother to but, puss and butcher to put, browse and 
mouthing to out; so between father and what the difference is no greater than 
between author and nor, or mouthing and out; and bur is to but as far to what, 
poor to Tnoot, mere to 7neet. 

* The movements of the tongue in pronouncing all these will show that there 
is a double action of the vocal organs, but the second or vanishing sound is dis- 
tinctly recognized only when it is one that might be represented by some form of 
1 or u, which two stand at the extremes of the regularly graded series, i, e, a, o, u ; 
so the last vowels in music (iu) and fractious (iu) are more distinct than in lain 
(ea) and piece (ie). 



20 orator's manual. 

Sub-vocals ] but ( Aspirates 
preceded by }- in -< preceded by- 
vocalization. ) the { no vocalization. 

In b bab and p pap the lips join. 

In V van and f fan the lower lip touches the upper 

teeth. 
In d dole and t toll the tongue's tip touches the upper 

inside front g^ums. 
In j jar and ch. char the tongue's tip touches the mouth's 

roof just behind upper inside 

front gums. 
In g- gay and k kay the tongue's middle touches the 

corresponding palate. 
b. In these the breath is allowed to escape gradually between 
the organs mentioned : 

Siib-vocals Asinrates 

accompanied unaccompanied 

with vocalization. ' with vocalization. 

In w way and wh whey between the lips pushed forward. 
In til this and th. thistle between the tongue's tip and the 

teeth. 
In z zone and s sown between the tongue's tip and upper 

inside front gums. 
In z azure and sh sure between the tongue's tip and roof 

of mouth behind gums. 
In h. hah between the tongue's middle and 

palate. 

III. Notice also that the position of the lips and tongue is the 
same in m, b and »; n, d and t; and ng, g and k. {See Exercise, 
§11.) 

Consonant Combinations. 

(!I^" In practicing upon the consonants it is better to repeat over 
the separate consonants or combinations of consonants than the 
whole words in which they are found. Otherwise there is danger 
that the articulation, instead of becoming proper, will become pre- 
cise, — one of the worst of faults. 

Most persons will not need any more exercises upon the conso- 
nants than those in §§ 11, 12. But when articulation is particularly 
defective in connection with certain letters or combinations of letters, 
it may be found advantageous to practice over such of the following 
exercises as contain them. 

m in gum, blame, realm, calm, phlegm, moment, mammon, 
tempter, monumentary, matrimony, — He was most mindful of that 
mysterious melancholy— The moment he came home he mounted 
the mule — The mutterings of the maddened communists made music 
for me. 

n in noun, nine, stolen, swollen, barn, mown, name, gnarl, de- 
sign, banner, frozen, reason, heathen, shapen, Briton, deaden, non- 



COXSOXAXT COMBINATIONS. 21 

entity, unanimous, an ice, a nice, an ocean, a notion, an oyster, an 
uncle, an aunt, a niece, an ink-bottle, a numbskull, — When lig-ht- 
ning and dread thunder rend stubborn rocks asunder, and mon- 
archs die with wonder — What news do you know? 

ng" in gang, king, length, bank, being, bringing, robin, robbing, 
chapping, chopping, anguish, concourse, banquet, anxiety, reading, 
writing, dancing and singing, — Being all deserving of strong con- 
sideration. 

1 in all, marl, earl, love, isle, loins, lively, lovely, helm, castle, 
axle, grovel, able, liberty, looming, — We cast one longing, lingering 
look behind— Explain, exclaim and explode — The heavily-laden load 
loomed up. 

y in yawn, yell, he, hear, ye, year, you, use, youthful, useful, 
million, Asia, studios, — Also ii in duke, tune, new, Tuesday, — The 
new tune suits the duke — Youth with ill-humor is odious. 

r in raw, wrap, fry, bray, pray, grope, dray, tray, shrill, shriek, 
throw, raiment, rampart, wrestle, christian, rural, around, erect, 
rebel, dreading, dredging, memorandum, remuneration, repetition, — 
The grunting groom groaned grossly at the glittering robe — Ap- 
proach thou like the rugged Russian bear — The armed rhinoceros 
— Rend with tremendous sound your ears asunder, with gun, drum, 
trumpet, blunderbus and thunder. 

r in fir, cur, nor, bur, err, hire, core, pure, terse, force, marsh, 
scarf, dark, card, garb, learn, pearl, hearth, swerve, pardon, mercy, 
virtue, mortgage, com.merce, debar, appear, expire, demure, — What 
man dare I dare — I hear thee near, I start and fear. 

b in bab, barb, babe, bib, bulb, embark, babboon, abrogate, 
fabulous, ebony, liberty, barbarous, barbican, 

p in pap, pate, pet, pipe, pope, pippin, proper, topple, puritan, 
papacy, populous. 

b and p in Where boundless rest that borders boundless love 
abides in bliss of bounty absolute — The north-sea bubble put the 
public in a hubbub — Here piles of pins extend their shining rows, 
puifs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux — Abuse the city's best 
good men in meter, and laugh at peers that put their trust in Peter. 

V or ph., f, in vat, vain, pave, weave, hive, void, ravel, heaven, 
even, given, vivid, votive, Stephen, twelve, of. 

f or ph., gh, in far, for, fry, deaf, calf, laugh, tough, phrase, 
phial, profit, deafen, roughen, soften, epitaph, phaeton, phonetic. 

V and f in The vile vagabond ventured to vilify the venerable 
voter — Down in the vale where the leaves of the grove wave over 
the graves — He filled the draught and freely quaffed, and puffed the 
fragrant fume and laughed — The flaming fire flashed full in his face. 

d in dad, did, dead, aid, made, longed, hedged, saved, writhed, 
walled, ebbed, damaged, modest, pedant, udder, deadly, adjourned. 

t in tat, tight, debt, laced, danced, chafed, laughed, wrecked, 
matter, totter, titter, testament, titillate, destitute, taciturn, testator, 
attainment, intestate. 

d and t in Down in the deep dungeon he did delve — He dis- 
cor-ered naught but deserts and despair — And of those demons that 
are found in fire, air, flood, or under ground — To inhabit a mansion 



22 orator's manual. 

remote from the clatter of swift prancing steeds — A tell-tale, tat- 
tling, termagant that troubles all the town — He talked and stamped 
and chafed till all were shocked. 

j in jam, gem, gin, June, joke, judge, jot, jut, Julius, disgorge, 
allege, jolly, jogged, regiment, — This generous jolting gave us gen- 
eral joy — ^Jaded he joked and jumped a jig — The jailbird nudged 
the jovial judge, then jerked away. 

ch. in chat, chant, latch, itch, choose, chaplain, charmer, check- 
mate, chirping, — The chosen church a changeless challenge made — 
The wretch chastised would fetch the matches. 

g hard in gag, egg, gig, gog, good, guide, ragged, cragged, 
gimlet, ghastly. 

k (or c, ell, qu) in car, cake, coke, keen, chord, quay, clear, 
comic, conquer, collocate, calico, cucumber, vaccinate, — He gave a 
guinea and he got a groat — A giddy, giggling girl her kind folks 
plague, her manners vulgar and her converse vague — A black coat 
of curious quality — With the cold caution of a coward's spleen, which 
fears not guilt, but always craves a screen — The expectant will exe- 
crate this exceedingly expensive expedition — He will accept the 
command except of the navy, and expects to come back a conqueror. 

w in way, one, woo (who), wain (vane), wine (vine), wood, woos 
(ooze, whose), swoon, quake, choir, thwart, forward, wormwood, 
quorum, fro ward. 

wh. in what, why, while, whether, whim, whom, whiffle, where- 
withal, whithersoever, whales (wales), whirlwind, — A wight well 
versed in waggery — We wandered where the way wound through 
the winding wood — When wheels whizz whirring round, and whirl- 
winds whistling sound — While the white swelling tide is turned 
aside. 

th. in booth, with, wreath, bathe, oaths, breathe, tithe, these, 
those, their, either, heathen, northern, father, hither, thither, in- 
wreathe. 

th. in bath, path, oath, mouth, width, truths, thwart, thesis, 
hundredth, amethyst, mathematics, orthodox. 

th. in Through the smooth paths — They wreathe about the 
thicket — Thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his 
thumb — From nature's chain whatever link you strike, tenth or ten- 
thousandth, breaks the chain alike. 

z in blaze, as, is, was, views, moves, baths, bathes, balls, pains, 
commas, prizes, houses, scissors, brazen, cousin, puzzle, observes, 
exert, exempt, sacrifice, mechanism, anxiety. 

s in mass, dose, laughs, mouths, verse, dupes, packs, lax, hosts, 
fists, soil, cell, scene, schism, apsis, thesis, schedule, preside, desists, 
design, dissuade, vaccinate, — The prices of his dramas render the 
disposal of them, as is usually his usage, easy— When Ajax strives 
some rock's vast weight to throw — He bares his fists with strangest 
boasts, and still insists he sees the ghosts. 

z in azure, leisure, treasure, 

sh in ash, shore, marsh, sure, sugar, censure, pension, nation, 
showy, luxury, crucifixion, adventitious — The shade he sought and 
shunned the sunshine — The weak-eyed bat with short, shrill shriek 



EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 



flits by on leathern wing — The string let fly twanged short and 
sharp like the shrill swallow's cry. 



EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 

At first practice only § 7: e; §§8 and 10. 

7. Stand erect with shoulders back ; look straight ahead ; hold chin 
in ; rest on one leg, with both straight, and feet four inches apart, so 
placed that a straight line drawn through one foot from toe to heel 
wHl pass through the heel of the other. {See §§ 156-162). _ 

a. Alternating' Passive and Active Chest. — Without 
breathing or moving shoulders, repeatedly lift the chest from that 
which is its ordinary (passive) condition to the slightly raised and 
expanded (active) condition in which the shoulders seem to be back 
and down. When practicing the vocal exercises always hold the 
chest in this active position. 

b. Waist Movements. — Bend the body backward and forward, 
from side to side, and, without moving the hips, twist it, i.e. turn 
shoulders from side to side, 

c. Arm Movements. — After acquiring the mode of breathing 
(see § 8)- _ 

I. Do the following, all slowly and gentli/: While filling the 
chest lift the arms (without bending elbows) outward till the two 
together form a straight line parallel to the floor. When chest is 
filled, strike it gently with the hands; alternately move the arms 
slowly about the chest upward and downward, and backward and 
forward; hold the arms up. and, bending the elbows, alternately ele- 
vate the hands and touch the cheeks with the backs of the fingers. 

II. Do the following vigorously: Draw back the elbows with 
hands near the shoulders, fists clinched and palms up; take and 
hold a fuU breath; push forward the hands, on a line level with 
the shoulders, at the same time unclasping the fingers; then, 
keeping the arms as near to the sides as possible, so as not to strain 
ihe lungs, and clinching the fingers, draw the fists against the 
jihoulders and as far back as you can. Place each fist near its own 
shoulder, fill lungs, and, keepmg the elbows near the body, touch 
them in front, and behind if you can. 

d. Neck Movements. — Bend the head backward and forward, 
from side to side and twist it. 

e. Throat Movements. — To accustom difi*erent parts of the 
back of the mouth and throat to open and allow vowel sounds to 
come forward — 

I. Keep putting tip of tongue behind upper front teeth, and car- 
rying it. as if about to swallow it, along roof of mouth. 

II. Keep lifting the soft palate (something like gaping); look 
into a mirror and make the uvula (i.e. the membrane hanging from 
the back of the roof of the mouth) disappear. 

III. Alternately gape and make a movement as if about to 
swallow. 



24 orator's manual. 

IV. Put three fingers' breadth between the upper and lower 
teeth, and keep moving the lips backward and forward. 

f. Time for Vocal Practice. — Begin from one to five hours 
after eating, and practice from fifteen to thirty minutes. 

I. If any one exercise fatigues or irritates the organs, pass on 
to another, 

II. If out of practice, go over the exercises daily for three or 
four days before public speaking. 

8. Breathing. {See §§ 1, 2.) 



Always inhaling through nostrils — According to each 

I. Expand, first, abdomen, then lower mode, practice — 
side ribs, then lift chest, then contract 1. Effusive or ^ran- 
abdomen and side ribs, and last drop the quiJ breatJting : i.e. in- 
chest. (§ 7: a.) hale slowly, and exhale 

In the following, if a beginner, place the with a prolonged whis- 

arms akimbo, with fingers pointing forward, pered sound of h. 

then throw shoulders (not body) forwaixl so II. Expulsive: i. e. 

as to keep the chest down, and with fingers inhale more rapidiy and 

gently drawing apart the lower ribs below expel, by contracting 

the breast bone — the abdomen, repeated 

II. Expand, first, lower side ribs, then whispers (a second or 
(throwing shoulders back) the abdomen, two long), of h — h, 
and lift chest, then contract the lower h — h, etc. 

ribs and abdomen, and last drop the chest. III. Explosive or 

(§ 7: a.) abrupt: i. e. inhale 

After a few weeks, see to it also that the more rapidly (or inhale 

muscles at side and bach of the waist ex- slowly); expel, by con- 

pand as you draw in the air. trading the abdomen, 

IW In holding the breath, or letting it suddenly and forcibly, 

out, never allow yourself to feel that there one or any number of 

is contraction or force expended in the whispered sounds of h. 

throat. Keep the throat open: make the In this way cough, 

waist muscles do all the work. (§ 3.) yawn, sob and laugh 

out the whispers. 

To develop full respiration, strong utterance and clear articula- 
tion, practice the exercises in § 11, or read anything in a whisper. 
Never prolong this exercise for more than two or three minutes. 
Never practice breathing or whimpering after you feel giddy. 

9. Vocal Cords. — I. Holding the breath, repeat as rapidly as 
possible a soft, short sound, ])etween that of u in up and oo in coo — 
whispered — then softly vocal — and up and down the scale. 
Make it in the forwar<l j^art of the mouth, rather than in the throat, 
and never after it begins to irritate the organs. 

II. If you have a voice of a breathing quality, occasionally, for a 
few seconds, hold the breath and force it against the vocal cords so 



EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 25 

as to grate them together, emitting a half-vocaliz^d, constantly 
interrupted sound. 

10. Elementary Vowel S.otinds. {See §§ 3, 4.) 

a. Practice the sound of oo in cooj but much less than aw mjaio^ 
oh in ivoe^ and all m father, 

b. it is best to practice aid between about f and b, ^^^^; an 
00 quality of aiv for a note or two above this; then oh ^ \ on 
the highest (speaking) notes; ah is best for the lowest notes. Tenors 
and sopranos should practice most between f and b (as above), bassos 
and contraltos between d and g. Avoid practicing too high. 

RATE. MODE, 

Practice oo, but espe- Inhaling through nostrils as in breathing 

cially oh, aw, and later, exercises, expelhng breath by contracting 

ah. the abdomen, and allowing none to escape 

I. Effusively. Walk- before vocalizing it; repeat over slowly-— 
ing slowly, with arms I. woo, woo, etc. 
akimbo, sound, as long After a few repetition^, lowering thfe chin 
as possible, but not and bringing it forward slightly, and retain- 
after you lack in breath, ing the oo quality of the tone, pass on to 
a soft, low 00. ivoe; thus: woo, woo, woe, woe, etc. 

II. Expulsively. After a few repetitions drop the w', yet 
Utter, by contracting keep the vowel where it was with the w 
the abdomen, with mod- before it; thus: woe,- woe, oh, oh, etc. 
erate force, repeated Practice oh on a comparatively high key, 
sounds (a second or two for five or ten minutes, 

long) of b— h ! a — ^w ! When aw can be made properly, as indi- 

etc. cated below, bringing forward the chin, 

III. Explosively, lowering the chin and pitch,, and retaining 
Utter, by contracting the oh quality of the tone, pass to aw, aw, 
the abdomen, short, etc., and from atu, drawing the chin back 
sharp, ringing tones, and down a little, to ah, ah, etc> 

oh ! ah ! etc. ^ II. Keeping the tongue as flat as possi* 

When rightly given, ble behind, with its tip against the lower 
a match held in front front gums, push forward the lower jaw, 
of the mouth will not open mouth wide, draw in the breath as if 
be blown out by the about to yawn, and with the mouth in this 
breath. position utter from abdomen, at a medium 

In this way cough, pitch, for five or ten minutes^ haw, haw, 
yawn, sob and laugh etc., aw, aw, etc. 

out the sounds. Aspirate slightli/, and drop h when sure 

that' the sound is made from the abdomen. 

After a few days pass from hatv, aw, down 

'the scale to hah, ah, and up the scale to 

ho, oh, as indicated in the last exercise. 

c. To keep the mouth open, place part of a match-stick between 
upper and lower teeth, one to one and a half inches long for aiO' 
shorter for oh, longer for ah. 

It will take the beginner many weeks to learn to make these 
sounds properly, and he must always continue to practice them. 



26 



ORATOR'S MANUAL. 



11. Elementary Consonant Sounds. (See § 6.) 

Contracting abdomen with each utterance, and taking- care not 
to pronounce the name of the consonant, and not to sound the vowel 
following it, repeat the vocal sounds indicated by the sub-vocals 
and breathing sounds by the aspirates : 



SUB-VOCALS 






ASPIRATES 


First three for nasal passages 


•*v- 


vow, <=«Tnir'- f f 


^ fourfold. 


m i^ moon, °°=|o'rof"^ 


tb " 


bob, " p ' 


pawpaw. 


n " noon, " 


td " 


daud, " t ' 


taught. 


ng" anguish, " 


tg" 


gog, " c k' 


cuckoo. 


1 " Lulu, 


gj" 


George," ch ' 


chowchow. 


y " you, 


th" 


though," th. " 


thought. 


r " row, 


z " 


azure, " jsh. ' 


shaw. 



" err, 



Z " zone, " tS " sauce. 



Exercises for Advanced Scholars. 
12. Moving the jmvs vigorously, repeat OO-oi-ai-OU, 
oo-oi-ai-ou, etc. 

a. In uncultivated voices, the muscular effort of articulating the 
consonants closes the back of mouth and the throat, thus keeping 
the vowel sounds down. In stammering and stuttering, the chief 
trouble is the same; i.e. the articulation, so to speak, swallows the 
vowel. So practice words containing' consonants and open 
or long vowels, keeping vowel sounds as near the lips and the 
throat as wide open as possible, with the lower jaw forward and the 
throat in the position of wailing. If the exercise tires the muscles 
on the outside of the throat, no matter. 

b. Repeat the words in § 11, usmg, at first, a separate action of 
the diaphragm with each consonant, and dwelling upon each very 
distinctly, thus: iD-o-b, d-au-d. 

Also, 

bibe 
dod 

gawky 
judge 
lull 
rare 



more 
noun 
thou 



babe 

daud 

gargoyle 

jejune 

loll 

rule 

mine 

none 

loathe 



booby 


bauble 


died 


doodle 


gong 


glowing 


jujube 


Julia 


dwell 


liberty 


rural 


bar 


maim 


moon 


nine 


name 


mouthing 


mother 



♦Also, ktig in k(i)ng. t Practice much on Imv tones. 

X Do not practice these unless you lisp. 



EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 



27 



vault 


hive 


love 


lave 


wayward 


wave 


pope 


pipe 


3'our 


culture 


tote 


tight 


zeugma 


zone 


church 


changing 


Asia 


azure 


thaw 


through 


cocoon 


croking 


show 


bosh 


fife 


five 


cease 


souse 



^^ A cultivated voice out of practice can be prepared for public 
speakings by a two days' repetition of the above exercises. 

c. Moving the lips and diaphragm vigorously, repeat with e and 
short vowels — 

Wee - week- wick -wack- week, or quee -queck- quick - 
quack-quock. 

E^" Learn to use the open vowels with consonants, and the 
short vowels will usually take care of themselves. 

d. Practice difficult combinations of consonants with and without 
vowels. {See%6:lY.) 

Add also ^ or c^ and st to the first three columns of the following : 



arm 


wrong 


crack 


brow 


sky 


helms 


dream 


bathe 


bask 


crow 


spy 


prompt 


scorn 


imprison 


crackle 


grow 


spry 


nymphs 


hold 


chirp 


throttle 


strow 


blow 


thousandth 


furl 


five 


dazzle 


throw 


glow 


twelfth 


probe 


march 


baffle 


frown 


flown 


rhythms 


range 


bark 


gobble 


prow 


splash 


expects 


forge 


milk 


drivel 


draw 


slow 


contents 


13. 


Pitch and Time. 


(§§ 35-96.) 





Practice with diff'erent degrees of loudness and kinds of stress, 
with long and sliort slides in slow and fast time, the following- 
inflections, and also the examples under a, b, c, d, h, i, and §§ 39-42. 

In the following the small preliminary note, in connection with each inflec- 
tion, represents a slight slide of the voice that occasionally, especially in connec- 
tion with terminal or median stress (§ 15), precedes the real inflection. This 
makes the voice in the downward inflection, for instance, move thus -"-, rather 
than ^. This preliminary movement of the voice is not represented in the 
marks used in this book, except in the case of the upward circumflex ~, in 
which, because it is exceptionally important, it is marked lest it should be over 
looked. 



28 



ORATOR S MANUAL. 



a. Falling Inflection. 



It's a glorious, a splendid project ! It's ab6minable, 
monstrous, awful ! 

b. Rising Inflection. 



oh oh aw aw aw 'ah "^ ^ 

Indeed, is it so ? Did lie say so, and to y6u ? 
c. Falling Circumflex. 



Oh, you meant no harm, — oh, no, you are plire. 
d. Rising Circumflex. 



All that I live by is the awl. 

e. Practice the scale both up and down with a long 
median swell on each note. This exercise, especially with 
oo, will also cultivate pure quaUty. 




f. Sound alternately a Hgli then a loxvi ah, aw, or oh. 

Develop low tones by practicing a low g, d, or b consonant ele- 
ment, or loii) whispered u in up ; high tones by using them. Never 
practice too high. 



EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 29 

g". Base or contralto voices should gain perfect command of 
musical notes between mid e and g. Tenors and sopranos between 
mid g and h. 

h.. Read the following, beginning low, and graduallg ascending 
the scale on each syllable, and ending with the rising inflection : 

Do you mean to tell me that you could have thought 

that I could go all around town and tell everybody that I 

happened to meet that I could believe such a mean story 

about you as that? 

i. Read the same, beginning high, and gradualhj descending to 
a falling inflection. Also, 

Start high, To the deep, (descend) d6wn, 

(Descend) To the deep, (descend) down, 

low, Through the shades of sleep; 

Through the cloudy strife 
gradually, ^^ death and of life ; 

Through the veil and the bar 
rising, ^f things that seem and are ; 

high, Even to the steps of the remotest throne, 

lower, Down ! 

lower, down ! 

low, down ! 

Practice exercises in §§ 149-151; § 97; § 93: a, b, c. 

14. Force. (§§ 99-115.) 

Practice explosively, expulsivehj and effusively, — i. e. with dif- 
ferent degrees of abruptness and smoothness, both loud and soft — 
the exercises in §§ 10-12, 

a. Also, with different degrees of loudness, then with abrupt 
explosive and expulsive force, at medium or loiv pitch — 

FORWARD, FORWARD, FOUWARD, etc. 
Read extracts in §§ 107, 110, 111, 114, 118, 149: b, d, and 
§§ 211, 213. 

b. For smooth force, make at medium pitch, long, swelling sounds 
of 00 (§ 13: e), beginning and ending soft, with the middle loud. 



30 • orator's maxual. 

Read passages in §§ 112, 119, 120, and those marked for effusive 
utterance in §§ 221-225. 

15. Stress. (§§ 99-105.) 

Lift the arms at full length aloove the head, and strike for- 
ward and down. When the hands reach the hip-level, stop them 
suddenly and utter ah. This, which need not be continued after one 
can give the proper sound, will cause 

Initial Stress > , with the beginning of tone louder (not neces- 
sarily very loud) than its continuation or end ; made with explosive 
or expulsive utterance (§§ 8, 10). 

With the same movement (§ 15) begin a soft sound as the hands 
begin to descend, and end with an explosion as they stop. This 
will give 

Terminal Stress < , with the end of the sound loudest; made 
with expulsive or explosive utterance (§§ 8, 10). 

Median Stress <>, v/ith the middle of the sound loudest; 
made with effusive or expulsive utterance {§§ 8, 10). 

Compound Stress X. This begins and ends loud; a com- 
bination of Initial and Terminal Stress. 

Thorough Stress XX » ^oud throughout ; a combination of 
Compound and Median Stress. 

Tremulous Stress — •, a trembling tone. 

a. Practice each kind of stress with ah, aw and oh ; also 
With vehemence, > Understand distinctly, you all are fools. 

determination, < I am determined to abide and remain, 
enthusiasm, <> Let all the grandeur of the law be recalled. 
amazement, >< Is it all gone, — all he had '? Yes, all. 
defiance, XX ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ lawyers and the law work on. 

grief, ~^ Ah, is such the law, — the nation's law? 

"b. Practice the different examples in §§ 99-105. 

16. Volume and (Eluality. 

The flexibility of the organs, which is the inevitable result of 
practicing the foregoing exercises, will sufficiently prepare one for 
the direct study of these elements as explained in §§ 121-137. 



EMPHASIS. 

17. The first thing noticeable in the utterance of consecutive 
words is, that certain of them are uttered with more weight of voice 
than others are; that they receive what, for this reason, is termed 
an emphasis. A little thought will evince that this emphasis is 
given to words mainly because they are conceived of as introducing 
into the general drift of the phraseology more iceight of meaning 
than other words do; often as in themselves conveying the specific 
meaning that characterizes a whole passage. A man, e. g., may 
remark: "In that case, I shall walk to Boston." Four persons, 
hearing him, may exclaim respectively: "You shall walk to 5os- 
toji!'' " You shall walk to Boston !" " You shall walk to Boston !" 
''You shall walk to Boston !" In each case the word (in italics) 
emphasized indicates that it, rather than any other, specifies that 
which conveys to the conception of the speaker the import, informa- 
tion or peculiarity of the expression. 

This example shows also the importance, if we wish to be rightly 
understood, of emphasizing the right words in the right way. It will 
be noticed that the same phraseology may be made to convey almost 
as many different ideas as there are different words in it to be em- 
phasized. Here is the . 

18. General Principle Underlying Emphasis. 

Words or phrases conceived of as introducing special impor- 
tance., information or peculiarity into the general thought of a 
passage are emphasized; those that merely carry forward 
the general thought, expressing what is of little value in 
itself, or is knoivn, acknoivledgecl, forestalled or repetitious, 
either in the v^ay of statement or sequence, are slighted. 

a. For illustrations consult §§ 40, 41, 42. All that are necessary 
for our present purpose may be considered in connection with the 
following : 

19. Antithetic Emphasis. Antithetic or contrasted 
words or phrases necessarily introduce importance, pecu- 
liarity, etc., into the general thought, and are emphasized. 

31 



32 ORATOR'S MANUAL. 

1. If we have no regard for onr oini character, we ought, at 
least, to regard the characters of others. 

2. The tvicked flee when no luan pursueth; but the righteous 
are bold as a lion. 

3. Without were fightings; tviihin -were fears. 

4. Faithful are the wounds of 2, friend; but the kisses of an 
enemy are deceitful. 

20. Transferred Emphasis. When a word or clause 
that has been once emphasized is repeated soon after, the 
emphasis, unless there be some special reason for directing 
attention again to the same thought, is transferred to some 
other word or clause; e. g. 

1. Jesus asked them, saying. What think ye of Christ, — whose 
so>iishe? They say unto him, The ^ono^ David. He saith unto 
them. How, then, doth David in spirit call him Lord? * * * If 
David, then, call him Lord, how is he his son ? 

2. How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough 
and to spare, and / perish with hunger ! I will arise and go to my 
father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned. 

3. He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but 
for the sins of the ivhole world. 

Also Johnvii: 41, 43. 

a. But if the repeated icord has a neio import or refers 
to a different object., it may be emphasized; e.g. 

1. And he began to be in want, and he went and jomed himself 
to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into the fields to feed 
swine. 

2. Then he said, I pray thee, therefore, father, that thou wouldst 
send him to my father" s house. 

21. As an association in sound is the best possible repre- 
sentation of an association in sense, we frequently find 
words and clauses that seem to introduce little into the 
general thought, which, nevertheless, must be emphasized, to 
indicate the relation that they hold to other words and 
clauses; hence 

a. Emphasis on Account of Association. Words or 
series of words associated with one another, either by being 



PRINCIPLES OF EMPHASIS. 33 

in apposition or by having similar grammatical relationshipg 
or general characteristics, are similarly emphasized. {See 
§ 211: 5, 7, 12; § 215. 

1. Thou speakest of great principles which we do not under- 
etand — oxygen and hydrogen. 

2. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
The oppressor's tvrong, the proud man's contumely ^ 
The yangs of despised love, the law's delay, 

The insolence of office and the spurns 
That patient merit of the univorthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? 

3. Holy intention is to the actions of a man that which the soul 
is to the l)ody, or form to its matter, or the root to its tree, or the sun 
to the ivorld, or the fountain to a river, or the hase to a 2^illcir; for 
without these the body is a dead trunk, the matter is sluggish, the 
tree is a block, the WiJer is quickly dry, and the pillar rushes into 
flatness or rwm. 

Connected with this principle of association are the following: 

22. Emphasis by Attraction. In order not to interfere 
with the general sense of the sentence in which they stand, 
words, or series of words, sometimes receive by attraction 
an emphasis appropriate only for some more important 
word with which they are associated. 

Thus, in the following, power receives the same emphasis as 
not. If it preceded not, it would be emphasized differently. 

1. Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of such means 
as the God of Nature hath placed in oViX power. 

And hold and duty receive the same as exclaim, though the 
Dute would have uttered them differently. 

2. Was Arthur Duke of WelHngton in the house, and did he 
not start up and exclaim: ''Hold! I have seen the aliens do their 
duty?'' 

23. Emphasis by Personation or Representation. 
Words, or series of words, associated with a conception that 
may be represented by the tones of the voice, may receive 
an emphasis suggesting that which is mentioned; e. g. 



34 orator's maxual. 

In quick time — He flew by like a flash o' lightning. 

In loir jiitcli — He growled out, " Who's there? " 

With loud force — Forward, the light brigade ! 

With thin volume — Here's a knife ; clip quick ! 

Representing character — " Well, Jo! What is the matter? Don't 
be frightened." 

" I thought," says Jo, who has started and is looking round, — " I 
thought I was in Tom-all- Alone's agin. An't there nobody here but 
you, Mr. Woodcot ?" 

24. In reading the Bible, personation, in the sense of imitat- 
ing the manner of the characters described, should not be carried too 
far. The reader should be in the attitude oi 2^. medium, — both 
receiving and imparting, both listening and causing others to 
listen. 

25. Besides applying the above principles, in determining the 
appropriate emphasis to be used with any given word or phrase : 

a. Let one try to find out how he would utter the same if he 
were talking it, instead of declaiming it. 

b. Let one try the words supposed to be emphatic, then 
other words (without regard to the part of speech to which they 
belong), until satisfied that he has found the right emphasis for 
the right word. 

c. Let him remember that, with inexperienced speakers, the in- 
spiration that comes from an audience aiFects favorably only force 
and volume (§§ 29, 30) ; the^^anses and inflections, and, to some ex- 
tent, movement and pitch (§§ 29, 30), it affects unfavorably; there- 
fore, one should invariably determine upon these latter before the 
time for declaiming comes. 



ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS, 

AS DERIVED FROM NATURAL RHYTHM AND ACCENTUATION. 

26. It is observed that, as a rule, the consecutive words of every 
language are uttered rhythmically; and this because every second 
or third syllable is accented. 

a. There is a physical reason for accentuation. On examining 
the action of the throat, it is found that the current of sound flows 
through the vocal passages just as blood pulses through the veins or 
water pours through the neck of a bottle, with what might be 



eleme:n"ts of emphasis. 35 

termed active and passive movements. If this physical requirement 
is disregarded, as is usually the case in stammering and stuttering, 
the ease of utterance is impeded. 

b. Natural Rhytlim, as a rule, cannot be avoided in case 
words are uttered softly and quickly, as in ordinary conversation. 
When they are uttered loudly and slowly, as in most oratory, it is 
possible to disregard its requirements; but when this is done, the 
delivery that has no rhythm in it will not appear natural to those 
who hear it. Hence, in all forms of utterance that are artistic, we 
may perceive the results of an endeavor to represent nature in this 
regard. Not only the j^oet and musician arrange their clauses and 
melodies so that the prominent words, rhymes, swells and runs shall 
be rhythmical, but the orator, both as a rhetorician and elocutionist, 
must do the same. Rhythm, however, must always be made sub- 
servient to the sense. This can always be done, because 

27. The requirements of rhythm and emphasis usually 
coincide. 



hm is a result of regularly recurring accentuation. This 
makes prominent certain syllables, and in the act of doing so neces- 
sarily slights others. But emphasis doep precisely the same thing. 
Simply hy increasing, therefore, the deyree of habitual accent on a 
given syllable, we can render emphatic the word in which it occurs. 
In this way we may emphasize either one or all of the following 
words in italics : 

One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves. 
In such cases the elements of accent, if discovered, ivill give us the 
elements of emphasis. The ordinary accent distinguishes the syllable 
on which it falls from those before and after it, by its being uttered 
in longer time, at a different pitch., unth more force and greater 
volume. For definitions see § 29. The inference is, that the same 
elements will be present when, for the sake of emphasis, we make 
the accent extraordinary. 

28. There are occasionally cases in which the require- 
ments of rhythm and emphasis do not coincide. Here, as 
both are important, they must be made to coincide. 

a. When we try to make them do this, we find that time, 
pitch., force, and volume, furnish aU the elements needed for the 
purpose. 



36 orator's maxual. 

b. In the first of the following sentences, to have perfect 
rhythm, there needs to be an accented syllable after nature and 
character, and unaccented syllables both before and after high, so 
that high can be emphasized as well as most and God. Accordingly, 
to give the right emphasis and yet preserve the rhythm (i. e. have 
the vocalizing breath work in the right way), we need to fill up the 
time where these syllables should be, either by pausing after a word, 
as after nature, character, and most, or by dwelling upon it, as upon 
high; i. e. we need to read the whole in the same relative time as 
the second sentence in which no syllables are missing; e. g.* 

Nature, | •^ it is | often | said, re | veals the | character | ^ of 
Nature, ] as it is ] often | said, re | veals the | character | too of 

the I most *^ \ highly | God. 

the I great and | mighty | God. 

c. Notice also the following:* 

1. Thou I compassest my | path, *^ | *J and my | lying down, ^ I 
•y and I art ac- | quainted with | all my | ways, •f | For there is | 
not a 1 word in my [ tongue, | •^ t»ut | lo, *? I 7 I Lord, | thou *? | 
knowest it | alto- [ gether. | *f | 7 I Thou hast be- | set me | 7 
be- I hind and be- | fore, 7 I 7^"^^ I ^^^^ thine | hand up- j on me. | 
7 I 7 I S^*^^^ *1 I knowledge is | too 7 I wonderful | for me: | 7 it 
is I high, 717^1 cannot at- | tain unto it. 

2. At I midnight, | 7 in his | guarded [ tent, 7 I 

The I Turk 7 I 7 ^^as | dreaming | 7 of the j hour, 7 I 
When I Greece, 7 I 7 ^^®^' I knee in | suppliance | bent, 7 I 
Should I tremble | 7 at his | power; 7 I 
7 I 7 In'l dreams, 7 I 7 through | camp and | court, he | bore 7 I 
The I trophies | 7 of a | conqueror, | 

In I dreams, his ] song of | triumph | heard; 7 I *f I 
Then 7 I wore his | monarch's | signet | ring, | 7 I 
Then 7 I press'd that ^ monarch's | throne, | 7 I */ '^ I King; 7 I *7 I 
As 1 wild his I thoughts, 7 I 7 ^^^M S^Y of | wing, 7 I 

As I Eden's | garden | bird. 7 I *^ I *f I 
At I midnight, | 7 in the | forest- | shades, | 7 I 

Boz- I zaris | ranged his | Suliote | band, 1 7 I 
True I 7 as the | steel 7 1 7 of | their 7 | tried 7 | blades, | 
Heroes | 7 in 1 heart *j | 7 and | hand; 1 7 I *? I 
• In the rest of this book the bars indicate pauses, but here they are used at 
in music, and only the musical rests indicate pauses. 



ELEIVIENTS OF EMPHASIS. 37 

There •f. | ^ had the ( Persian's ] thousands | stood, •f | 

There 7 | *j had the | glad •? | earth ^ | drunk their I blood •[ | 

I On I oldPla- 1 tsBa's 1 day: I 
And I now •/ 1 *j there | breathed that j haunted 1 air ^ |j 
The 1 sons */ | *? of | sires who | conquered | there, ^ | 
With I arm to ] strike ^ | *J and | soul to | dare, j 

As I quick 7 I *7 as I far •? I ^ as I they. ^ I *? I *? ^ 

d. Observe that sometimes, as after throne, thoughts, and noio, in 
the last example, the pause, suggested in the first place by the 
requirements of rhythm, is made very long. For the sake of 
emphasis, the voice rests during the time necessary for the utterance 
not alone of one or two syllables, but in some cases of half-a-dozen 
syllables. 

e. Observe also that when, instead of merely ceasing to make a 
sound, the voice fills up the interval of time by dwelling on a word 
(as, in the last example, on Greece, tremble, throne and now), this 
action is accompanied by a decided change in pitch (e. g. Greece 
and tremble), or in force (e. g. throne stud 7iow) ; and that, wherever 
there is a change in these, the very effort made in causing the voice 
to glide from one pitch to another, or to be expelled from the lungs 
with more force, has a tendency to produce a change in its volume. 
Accordingly we see that wherever emphasis and rhythm do not 
coincide, a judicious use of the elements that enter into both can 
make them coincide. Enough has been said to show why 

29. Tlie Elements of Emphasis are, 

Time, determined by the relative rapidity with which words 
are uttered ; 

Pitch, by the relative position of the sounds on the musical 
staff, whether high, ffyif - medium, (^: ^ or low, ^: [ ■ 

Force, by the relative energy with which the breath is expelled 
from the lungs ; and, 

Volume, by the relative degree in which the breath is vocalized 
and made resonant. 

These elements admit of subdivision according to the following 
principles : 

30. In Emphasizing Single Words by means of 
a change.— 

a. In Time, a Pause, marked ' J il, is used after, 



38 orator's manual. 

word. The mannor of pausing is determined largely by what is 
termed the Quantity of time that can be given to the utterance of 
the word. 

b. In Pitch, ;ui Inflection, or, if we refer to the movement of 
the voice in producing tliis, a Slide is used, termed downward or 
falling (§ 13), marked ^ ; upward or rising (§ 13), marked ' ; and a 
circumflex or tcave, if it moves in both directions. The wave is 
termed (from the way in which it ends) falling, marked *", or ris- 
ing, marked "^ (§ 13). 

c. In Force, Special Force is used ; and the manner of using 
this depends on the kind of Stress that is given to a syllable. The 
different kinds of stress, determined by the place in the sj^lable 
on which the chief energy is expended, are initial >, terminal <, 
median O, compound X, thorough XX' '^^*^^ tremulous — . {See 
§§ 15, 99-105.) 

d. In Volume, there is no special term used for a slight change. 
It is said to be thin orfidl. When the change is great, and not only 
in degree but in kind, there is a difference in Quality. 

31. In Emphasizing Consecutive Words by 
means of a change 

a. In Time, we find, corresponding to long or short pauses, slow 
or fast Movement; e. g. 

Slow. 
A soldier | of the Legion f lay dying I at Algiers ; || 
There was lack || of woman's nursing, || there was lack || of woman's | 

tears. 

Past. 

I sprang I to the stirrup, | and Joris, | and he ; | 

I galloped, I Dirck galloped, | we galloped \ all three. 

to. In Pitch, corresponding to long or short slides, together with 
their influence on intervening syllables, we have varied or unvaried 
Melody, and also (as the speaking voice is naturally low, and, 
therefore, varied mainly through introducing the high tones) an as- 
sociated high or low Key. 

c. In Force, corresponding to the different degrees and kinds 
of specinl force and stress, we have loud or soft, abrupt or smooth 
General Force; divided again, according to one's mode of vocaliz- 
ing, into sustained, natural and suppressed force, and, according to 
one's mode of emitting the breath, into explosive, expulsive and 
effusive force. 



ELEMENTS OP EMPHASIS. 39 

d. In Volume, we have changes in degree, or in kind ; in the 
latter case necessitating changes in duality. 

32. The Significance of the Elements of Em- 

pliasis must be determined, in all cases, by the object in 
view, or by the effect produced when using any given ele- 
ment. 

Time. When a speaker pauses or lingers on a word or 
phrase, he does so that he himself, or that others, may have 
more time in which to think of it. The giving of a differ- 
ent relative time to different words causes, in poetry, what 
is termed metre or measure. We may take a hint from this 
term, and say that the relative time apportioned to a word 
indicates the mincVs measurement of it, — represents the 
speaker's judgment as to the amount of meaning or impor- 
tance that it conveys. 

Pitch.. When, either abruptly, as in the emphatic 
slides, or gradually, as in unemphatic passages, the voice 
passes up or down the scale, or continues on one key, it 
does so because the mind of the speaker is impelled to open, 
close or continue the consideration of an idea that has been 
broached (§ 43). The melody of the movement taken by 
the voice represents, therefore, like melody in music, the 
mincfs motive, — indicates its purpose in using the partic- 
ular phraseology to which the melody is applied ; and because 
pitch, through the kinds of inflections and melody chosen, 
reveals the motives, we shall find that the use of this ele- 
ment in ordinary conversation is constantly causing pre- 
cisely the same phraseology to express entirely opposite 
meanings (§§ 53-66). 

Force. When one uses different degrees and kinds of 
force with a word, he does so because he conceives that, in 
connection with the idea that it expresses, there is more or 



40 orator's manual. 

less demand for exertion. Hence, Force indicates the mind^'s 
activitij, — represents the kind or degree of metital energy. 

Volume. When natural causes have such an effect 
upon utterance as to close, choke or expand the throat — as 
in whispering, the guttural sound, or wailing, — it is because 
one's excitement, one's feelings, have mastered him. Vol- 
ume, or the qualities of the voice, therefore, which are 
determined by just such actions of the throat, represent the 
degree or kind of mental feeling . 

Of course, to some extent, all the departments of mind 
are enlisted in the use of each of these elements of empha- 
sis; but when considering that which each is particularly 
adapted to represent, it may be said that time represents 
the judgment, pitch the motives, force the energy, and the 
quality of voice the feelings. 

Besides this, it may be said that while the special em- 
phasis used with an individual word represents some special 
conception of the speaker with reference to it, the general 
emphasis given to clauses and sentences represents the com- 
bined influence of many special conceptions, i.e. his general 
state of mind, or his moods. 

If a special utterance is conceived of as in itself final or 
decisive, i.e. interesting, impo^^tant, noteworthy, affirmative, 
positive, or if the general mood expressed in the utterance is 
serious, grave, dignified or self-determined, the judgment, first 
of all, measures, then the motives direct, and in case there is 
demand for it the energies push and the feelings qualify the 
idea as something to be em.phasized, because (§ 18) it in- 
troduces importayice, information or peculiarity into the gen- 
eral sense. This emphasis for important ideas is given by the 
use of slow tim.e, lou^ imvaried pitch, loud or else abrupt 
force, and ///// volum.e. Opposite conceptions and states 



TIME. 41 

are expressed, of course, in opposite ways. These princi- 
ples, which there is no necessity of stating again under each 
separate head of time^ pitch, force and volume, will be un- 
folded and explained in the consideration of these elements 
that is to follow. 

33. The Diagram on the Elements of Emphasis in Com- 
bination (§§ 140). 

In this, the facts juso stated are presented in such a way as to 
show at a glance what the elements of emphasis are, and also that 
similar conditions influence them similarly. The student who has 
come to understand the principles underlying the diagram, and can 
apply them to his delivery, has mastered the main difficulties of our 
subject. 

34. Methods of Studying the Elements of Emphasis. 
Beginners should first learn § 201, and what is printed in large 

type, — and enough that is in the fine type to enable them to under- 
stand the principles in the large type, — under the heads of Elocu- 
tionary Pauses (§§ 35-39), Movement (§§ 40-42), Inflections (§§ 43- 
74), Starting Key of the Slides (§§ 75-77), and Key (§§ 96, 97); then 
they can turn to the diagram (§§ 140), and, in connection with 
this, study Transitions (§§ 147-151), and Massing (§§ 152, 153). 
Only after this need their attention be directed to Stress (§§ 98-105), 
and still later, in connection with vocal culture, to General Force 
• (§§ 106-115), Quantity (§ 39), Quality (§§ 121-137), and Melody 
(§§ 78-95). See also § 6 of Preface, and §§ 201, 303, 204. 

TIME. 

Elocutionary Pauses. 

35. Elocutionary Pauses, with cessations of sound, 
should be made before or after-, or the voice should dwell 
on all words that introduce into the general sense special 
importance, inforrnation, or peculiarity. (§§ 18, 32, 140.) 

a. Pauses are not often made hefore words, because most of 
these are preceded by an article, preposition or qualifier that cannot, 
except for extraordinary emphasis, be separated from them; e. g. 
One half | of the whole | was the whole | of his claim, 
2* 



42 orator's manual. 

b. They are usually made after words, and must be made there 
when these contain short vowels and consonant-sounds that cannot 
be prolonged without a drawl; e. g. 

Up, I sluggard, | up! ] Wicked, | debilitated | wretch ! | 
Fickle I fop! 

c. When a word contains one or more long vowels or consonant- 
sounds that can be prolonged, the voice dwells on it, with or with- 
out a cessation of the sound at its close. This makes delivery legato 
rather than staccato (§ 39); e. g. 

Wailing, | and woe, | and grief, | and fear, | and pain. 

36. Besides making delivery rJi'jthmical, and so natural {see 
§ 26, — hence called Harmonic Pauses), these pauses allow time 
for breathing, for giving slides, stress and full quantitif, and for 
uttering the important ivords (hence called Rhetorical Pauses) 
that give the clew to the meaning of a passage with distinctness 
{see § 40). In addition to this, they have more to do than changes 
in pitch or force with preventing monotony. They introduce 
light and shade into delivery. The foreground for important ideas 
is slower time ; while, in contrast with this, faster time keeps un- 
important ideas in the background. 

a. These pauses depend on the sense, not on the gram- 
matical construction ; so they may or may not be used 
where there are marks of jnuictuation. 

b. Sometimes it is impossible to render the sense without bring- 
ing in the pause, e. g. {see, also, § 97: a; § 140: a) — 

1. Let that plebeian II talk; 'tis not || my jj trade. 

2. Daily 1 1 with souls that cringe and plot 
We Sinais climb 1 1 and know it 1 1 not. 

37, According to the general principle (§ 35) a slight pause 
usually stands between the 'predicate of a sentence and its subject, 
and also its object (unless these are pronouns); and after emphatic 
adjectives, adverbs, 'prepositions (but these latter are very seldom 
emphatic) and conjunctions, especially but; e. g. 

The people | will carry us | gloriously | through | this struggle. 
He is pleasing, | but 1 1 is he honest? 

a. Be especially careful to pause after Adjectives that 

are essential to the sense of the nouns they qualify; e. g. 

Instead of chartered | immunities, | held under a British | 



TIME. 43 

king, II set before them j the glorious j object | of entire | inde- 
pendence. 

b. Never pause long on words whose importance depends on 
what follows; not thus, e. g., Thousands || of them | that love | me. 

38, In emphasizing by the pause, there is a natural tendency to 
group or mass {see §§ 152, 153) words together, the less important 
around the more important, and to consider each phrase thus formed 
as a unit, i.e. as one long word of many syllables. Such a group has 
in it no full pauses . 

a. A Pause usually precedes and follows every qualify- 
ing^ relative, imrenthetical or indei^endent phrase, clause or 
sentence; every simile or quotation, and every separate 
paragraph; e. g. 

Mr. Burke, ]| who was no ' friend | to popular ' excitement, — 1 1 
who was no ' ready ' tool | of agitation, || no hot- ' headed ' enemy | 
of existing ' establishments, II no undervaluer | of the wisdom ' of 
our ancestors, || no scoffer | against institutions ' as they are, — || has 
said, II and it deserves ' to be fixed | in letters ' of gold | over 
the hall ' of every ' assembly j which calls itself ' a legislative ' 
body, — II "Where there is abuse, | there ought ' to be clamor; || 
because ' it is better j to have our slumber | broken ' by the fire- ' 
bell, II than to perish ' amid the flames, | in our bed' " 

For other examples of the pause, see § 28: c; § 140: a; §§ 150, 151, 
226; 117, 120; and §§ 211-219: 1, 3, 12. 

b. For a similar reason a pause occurs wherever there 
is an ellipsis, or words are omitted. 

God, II — to clasp | those fingers j close || 
And yet | to feel j so lonely ! 
In connection with pauses, see Massing, § 152; especially what is 
said of the emphatic tye, § 153. 

Quantity. 

39. Quantity, as this term is technically used in elo- 
cution, refers exclusively to the quantity of time employed 
in the utterance of a syllable. It has to do with the methods 
of giving the emphatic pauses. 

a. Wherever these pauses occur, and thus lengthen the time in 
which a syllable is uttered, it is important, if possible, to prolong the 
ordinary vowel-sounds or consonant- sounds composing it. Otherwise 
the tones of the voice will cease after each emphatic syllable; and 



44 oratok's manual. 

one's delivery will not be characterized by that continuity of utterance 
which is always pleasing, and often, as in sustained force (§ 109), 
necessary to the effect. 

b. As related to Quantity, syllables are of two kinds : 

I. Variable. Almost every syllable, whether containing a 
long or a short vowel, can he i)^'olonged when there is reason for it; 
e. g. in tJiat, what, all, arm, debt, easy, fig, defile, nod, no, tub, tune. 

II. Fixed. In a general way, it may be said that some sylla- 
bles, especially those containing a short vowel and ending with k 
{c, ch), ji or t, cannot be prolonged without a draivl. When such 
syllables precede a pause, the sound ceases; e.g. Tuck | it | up — 
Sip I it — The patter | of the upper | pit. 

c. A due regard for the requirements of quantity enables one to 
read poetry smoothly yet rhythmically; e. g. 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to boiTOw 
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Leuore — 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — 
Nameless here for evermore. 

d. It has much to do also with imparting to oratory that rhyth- 
mical emphasis that Dr. Rush termed drift [see § 154). 

IH^^ duantity is best cultivated indirectly, through the 
General Exercises (§§ 8-14), and through learning to use rightly the 
diflPereut kinds of pauses (§ 35), inflections (§ 43), stress (§ 99) and 
force (§ 106). 

For long quantity, practice smooth and sustained force (§§ 109- 
112), also the monotone (§§ 94, 95). 

For short quantity, abrupt and vehement force (§§ 107, 114, 211 
also initial stress, § 100: 1, 2, 3). 

Movement. 
40. Movement changes with every transition of mean- 
ing or new paragraph, — becoming slow to represent what 
ynoves slowhj,^ or to emphasize what introduces special impor- 
tance,^ informatiofi^ or peculiarity * into the general sense ; 
and becoming fast to represent what moves rapidly,^ or to 
slight what is comparatively valueless'^ or is hnoivn,^ achnoivl- 
edged,^ forestalled,^ or repetitious,^^ whether in the way of 
statement^^ or sequence.^^ (§ 18, 32, 140.) 



TIME. 



45 



fThe curfew tolls the knell of parting day; 
J The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea; 
I The plowman homeward plods his weary way, 
t And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

I He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for 
stone, 
He swam the Eske river where ford there was 
none; 
( But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
( The bride had consented, the gallant came late; 
I For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 
(- Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 
'So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung; 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 
"She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush 

and scour; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth 
young Lochinvar. 
( In the beginning was the word, and the 
(word was wi.th God, and the word was God. 
The same was in the beginning with God. 
All things were made by him, 
( and without him was not anything made that 
I was made. 

j In him was life, and the life was the light of 
I men. 

There was a man sent from God 
r whose name was John. The same came for a 
J witness, to bear witness of the light, that all 
I men through him might believe. He was not 
[that light, 
but was sent to bear witness of that light. 

41. The following, respectively, introduce special impor- 
tance, information and peculiarity into the general sense, 
and so are uttered slowly. 

Tlie dogmatic, didactic. For the eyes of the Lord are over 
the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers; but the face 
of the Lord is against them that do evil. 

Tlie detailed, circumstantiaL Jesus answered and said unto 
them, Go and show John again those things which ye do hear and 



Slow, 1. 



Fast, 5. 



Slower, 1, 2, 3. 



Slow, 1-4. 



Fast, 5. 



Slow, 2, 3. 

Faster, 10, 11. 
Slow, 2, 3. 

Faster, 10, 12. 

Slow, 2, 3, 4. 
Faster, 6. 

Slow, 2, 3. 
Faster, 10, 11. 



46 



orator's manual. 



see: the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk; the lepers are 
cleansed and the deaf hear, etc. 

The strange, wonderful. I say unto thee arise, and take up 
thy couch, and go unto thine house. And immediately he rose up 
before them, and took up that whereon he lay, and departed to his 
own house, glorifying God. And they were all amazed, and they 
glorified God, and were filled with fear, saying. We have seen strange 
things to day. 

42. Quotations, Illustrations and all Parenthetical or 
Qualifying Clauses are preceded and followed by a pause^ 
and are uttered slower or faster according to the general 
princii^le (§ 40); e. g. 

{Dearly beloved, avenge not yourself, but rath- 
er give place unto wrath, for it is written, 
" Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the 
Lord." 

An 



Sloiver, 2, 3, 4. 

Faster, 6, 10. 
Slower, 2, 3, 4. 

Slower, 2, 3. 
Faster, 5, 6. 
Slower, 2. 



j Ye have heard that it hath been said, 
( eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; 

but I say unto you that ye resist not evil." 
r The spiritual warrior, like the young candi- 
J date for knighthood, may be none the worse 
I for his preparatory ordeal of watching aU 
t night by his armor. 

{As a fountain casteth out her waters, so she 
casteth out her wickedness. {Read, also, §§ 226 
-228. 
I Let us hold fast the profession of our faith 
J without wavering (for he is faithful that prom- 
I ised), and let us consider one another, to pro- 
[ voke unto love and to good works, 
j He girt his fisher's coat unto him, — for he was 
( naked, — and did cast himself into the sea. 

In connection with changes in movement, study particularly 
§ 28: b, c; massing or grouping, §§ 152, 153; transitions, §§ 147- 
151; elements in combination, §§ 140-144, and the examples under 
each; also §§ 221-226. 



Faster, 6. 



( 



PITCH. 47 

PITCH. 

Inflections: Emphatic Slides. 

43. Elocutionary Inflections, like Pauses, depend 
on the sense. 

a. So they are not always determined by marks of 
punctuation, nor by the limits of a grammatical sentence. 
They do not always rise, for example, where there is a (?), 
nor fall where there is a (.) 

b. Pitch., as we have found (§ 32), represents the men- 
tal motive. In giving the changes in pitch peculiar to the 
inflections, the voice 7Hses when moved to open and falls to 
close a sentence, if the sense opens and closes where the sen- 
tence does; e. g. 

If so, I will go. 

C. But if the sense does not open and close where the 
sentence does, this is not the case; e. g. 

I will go, if so. 

Will you go ? 

No, I won't, if he* waits a year. 

IN giving elocutionaey emphasis, 

d. The voice rises for the purpose of opening up or 
broaching an idea; i. e. to point away from utterances 
when they are merely anticipative or indecisive, in the 
sense of being in themselves subordinate, insignificant, 
trite, negative, or questionable, as contrasted with some- 
thing that is expected to be, or has been, expressed by the 
falling inflection. (/S'ee §§ 47-66.) 

e. The voice falls for the purpose of closing or 
completing an idea; i. e. to point to, or point out, utter- 
ances that are final or decisive, in the sense of being 
interesting, important, noteworthy, affirmative, or positive^ 
in themselves. It falls, e. g., whenever it gives its sentencCy 
in the sense either of having satisfactorily finished the ex* 



48 orator's MAN" UAL. 

pression of a sentiment or of having uttered something 
sententiouslij. {See §§ 48-66.) 

f. The voice sometimes, on an emphatic word, neither 
rises uor falls, because the mind is in a mood neither antici- 
pative nor decisive, but in mere neutral suspense; e. g. 

To die; — to sle&p; — 
To sleep? Perchance to drfeam. 

g. The voice sometimes, on an emphatic word, both rises 
and falls, because the mind wishes to express the ideas rep- 
resented by the movement of the voice in each of these direc- 
tions. This gives us the circumflex or wave. {See §§ 67-74.) 

44. Successful Oratory is always characterized by a habit 
of using liberally the falling inflection or bend, because 

a. This interests an audience by conveying- the impression that 
the objects or ideas mentioned are in themselves interesting, impor- 
tant, etc. 

b. It convinces and persuades an audience, by conveying 
the impression that the speaker is making affirmations about which 
he is jjositire. 

c. It keeps control of an audience, by causing the speaker to 
seem to keep control of himself. Notwithstanding the high pitch 
to which excitement may occasionally carry one's voice, a frequent 
use of the downward inflection has a constant tendency to bring the 
voice down to a lower key, in which one seems to have control of 
his faculties. When delivery is not thus broken by frequent returns 
to a more normal key, the rising inflections carry the voice higher 
and higher, into a tone from which it seems impossible to descend, 
and from which everything suggestive of self-mastery, or of the 
mastery of one's subject, is eliminated. In fact, almost all false 
tones in delivery are connected in some way with a disregard of the 
falling inflection. 

^W Do not suppose, however, that giving the falling inflection 
necessarily involves letting the voice fall on a word as though it 
ended a paragraph. On this subject stucli/ carefully §§ 75-77. 

45. Method of giving the Emphatic Slide. 



PITCH. 49 

a. The slide always begins on the accented syllable of a word. 
Where this is followed by syllables secondarily accented, it is con- 
tinued downward or upward on them; e. g. 

He did it inconsiderately. Inconsiderately? That is an impos- 
sibility. 

b. This principle is particularly noticeable when giving the cir- 
cumflex. In the following, in Italy, the I and y together receive the 
same inflection as the e in Greece : 

I should feel ashamed of an enthusiasm for ftaly and Greece, 
did I not also feel it for a land like this. 

c. Notice, also, that while I receives Initial Stress and y Ter- 
minal, the e in Greece receives Compound Stress. {See §§ 100, 101, 
103.) 

d. When the slide is given on a single syllable, the voice must 
pass distinctly through several intervals of pitch; and not merely 
to a pitch different from that sounded in the syllable uttered be- 
fore it. 

46. The Liength. of the Emphatic Slide, in ascending 
or descending the scale, depends upon the quantity and 
quality of the Emphasis that it is desired to give. 

The final inflection of a clause or sentence, rising or falling through the in- 
terval only of a semitone, is chiefly plaintive, and expresses melancholy, dejec- 
tion and subdued grief or pathos. If the falling inflection descends through the 
interval of a tone (or a musical second), it conveys simply the logical completion 
of the meaning of a clause or sentence, but without any passion or feeling being 
expressed. If the inflection rises through the interval of a tone, it merely shows 
that the logical meaning of the clause or sentence is in progress of development, 
but conveys no emotion. If the rising inflection is carried through the interval 
of a tone and a half (or in music a minor third), the inflection becomes strongly 
plaintive, and characterizes all pathetic appeals ; whilst, if the inflection falls to 
the same extent, it marks all assertions with an air of grief and lamentation. 
If the voice rises through an interval of two tones (or a major third), it ex- 
presses strongly doubt, appeal and inquiry, and if it falls in the same degree it 
conveys strong assertion. When the voice rises through the greater intervals of 
the musical fifth, or, still more, the interval of the octave, it expresses earnest 
appeal, wonder, amazement, and exclamation ; while if it falls through these in- 
tervals it expresses the strongest conviction, command, reprehension, hate, and 
all the sterner passions. A similar increase of meaning or emotion characterizes 
the extent to which the rising or falling circumflexes may be carried in those 
cases where they are specially applicable.— JS'mg'V College Lectures on Elocution, 
C. J. Plumptre. 

Sufficient has been said to enable the student to understand the 
following diagrams, in which (from pp. 50-59) inflections with op- 
posite meanings are arranged vis-d-vis on opposite pages. 
3 



50 orator's manual. 

§ 47. RISING INFLECTION. — Opening the sense, wliero the 
thought is anticipative and the expression of it indecisive, points 
forward or away from an object or idea enjphasized by it, because 
this (as explicitli/ or inipUclthj contrasted witli sometliing that in to 
be or has been mentioned) is conceived of as in itself — 

§ 49. ANTICIPATIVE; e.g. Instead of a long and bloody wdr 
for restoration of privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered 
immunities, held under a British king, g^=* 

The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, 
The playful children just let loose from school; 
The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, 
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; 
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
^ I And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 

^ \ The gay will laugh 

When thou art gone ; the solemn brood of care 
Plod on, and each one as before will cliase 
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave 
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, 
And make their bed with thee. 

His lordship's orthography is a little loose, but several of 
\ his equals countenance the custom. Lord Loggerhead always 
I spells physician with an F'. 

In sarcasm. — So you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs. 

In concessions. — There are wild theories abroad. I will 
not say I have none. (See § 212.) 

In repeated "words that introduce no importance, etc., 
into the sense. — Fellow-citizens, the enemy have come and we 
> must march against them. They have come, fellow-citizens, to 
\ desolate our fields. They have come to sack our cities. 

§ 51. INDECISIVE; e.g., I know not what course others 
may take, 3^^ 

Of which the positive is sometimes e.x2:>ressed. — Men are 
not gods, but properly are brutes. 

Sj \ Sometimes only implied. — Thou canst not be relentless. 

It certainly would be a strange thing if this were true, and 
) all the efforts of the past should prove to have been in vain. 



S 



Therefore in supplication. — 
^ I Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla! 

fl / O God ! I cannot leave this spot — I cannot! 

Cannot let go this hand. O tell me, Thekla! 

That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced 
§ \ That I cannot act otherwise. 

(,See§§ 212, 213,215.) 



(3 



CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 51 

§ 48. FALLIIJtr INFLECTION.— Closing the sense, where tho 
thought is conclusive, and tlie expression of, it decisive, points 
out specifically an object or idea emphasized by it, because this, 
irrespective of anything else that is to be or has been mentioned, is 
conceived of as in itseh" — ■ 

§ 50. CONCLUSIVE ; e. g. '"^g set before them the glorious 
object of entire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the 
breath of life. 

5i) / How often have I paused on every charm, 

^fl / The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,. 

"^ The never-failing brook, the busy mill, 

The decent chiirch that topt the neighboring hill, 
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, 
For talking age and whispering lovers made. 

Look to your hearths, my lords — 

For there henceforth shall sit, as household gods, 

Shapes hot from Tartarus — all shames and crimes — 

Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn — 

Suspicion, poisoning his brother's ciip — 

Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe. 

Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones; 

Till Anarchy come down on you like night. 

And massacre seal Eome's eternal grave. (§ 213.) 

^ I Clearness, force and earnestness are the qualities which 

!3 / produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist 
o / in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning 
^ I may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases 
"" may be marshalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. 
It must exist in the man, in the siibject, and in the occasion. 
It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain 
from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires with 
\ spontaneous, original, native force. 

§ 52. DECISIVE ; e. g. "^^g but, as for me, give me lib- 
erty or give me death. 

In assertion. — I hate him, for he is a Christian: 
^ But more, for that, in low simplicity, 

"5 I He lends out money gratis, and brings down 

B \ The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 

He hates our sacred nation; and he rails. 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift. 

Advocation. — Let every man bear in mind, it is not only 
his own person, but his wife and children, he must now defend. 

> I 

Therefore in command. — Fret, till your proud heart break; 

§ \ Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 

Pi \ And make your bondmen tremble. 

{See §§ 211-12, esp. Noa. 1, 3, 5, 7, 11, 12; § 215, and selections following.) 



52 orator's manual. 

The Motive, not the Phraseology, as the Criterion 
of the Rising Inflection. 

53. The inflection depends on the motive of the mind in using it, 
not on the verbal or grammatical form used. 

The following are mentally anticipative, indecisive, nega- 
tive, questionable, etc. 

55. The conditional mood usually expresses what is antici- 
pative, indecisive, subordinate, etc.; e. g. If he has done that, he 
shall suff'er for it. 

If that the face of men. 
The sufferance of our souls, the times abuse, 
If these be motives weak, break off betimes. 

57. The imperative mood may express what is anticipative, 
subordinate, etc. (§ 211:11); e. g. Be true to yourself: you will suc- 
ceed. 

Look to it; 
Consider, William : take a month to think, 
And let me have an answer to my wish; 
Or by the Lord that made me, you shall pack. 

59. A negative is usually anticipative and indecisive, i. e. in 
itself merely preparatory to some following positive affirmation; e. g. 

Not only around our infancy 

Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; ^^° 

Is mere animal life entitled to be called good ? Certainly not. 
There is no good in mere animal life. 

An assertion may be indecisive, expressing what is anticipative 
(§ 212:28), negative, questionable, etc.; e. g. 

T should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who, as you know, are honorable men. 

61. A question is usually anticipative (of an answer), express- 
ing what is indecisive and really questionable (§ 212). 

What! acting on this vague abstraction, are you prepared to 
enforce a law, without considering whether it be just or unjust, con- 
stitutional or unconstitutional ? Will you collect money when it is 
acknowledged that it is not wanted? 

Does any man, in his senses, believe that this beautiful structure, 
this harmonious aggregate of states, produced by the joint consent 
of all, can be preserved by force? 

The direct question (first time), seeking for information; e. g. 
Did you see that hidy ? 



COXTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 53 

The Motive, not the Phraseology, as tke Criterion 
of the Falling Inflection. 

54. The same phraseology may be differently inflected, according 
to the idea that the mind is moved to express by it. 

The following are mentally conclusive, decisive, aflarmative, 
positive, etc. 

56. The conditional mood may express what is positively af- 
firmed or believed; e. g. If he has done that, he should suffer for it. 

But if these 
(As I am sure they do) bear fire enough 
To kindle cowards and to steel with valor 
The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, 
What need we any spur but our own cause ? 

58. The imperative mood usually expresses what is conclu- 
sive, decisive, positive, etc. (§ 212); e. g. Be true to yourself, 
whether you succeed or not. 

Rouse, ye Romans; rouse, ye slaves. 
Awake, arise, or be forever fallen. 
Let every man stand by his gun. 
60. A negative may express a conclusive, decisive, positive 
affirmation (§ 215); e. g. 

""^H Daily, with souls that cringe and plot, 
We Sinais climb, and know it not. 

Thou shalt not st^al! No, gentlemen, the remembrance of their 
folly will not pass to posterity. There is no retreat but in submission 
and slavery. There would, without obedience, be no kindred to 
create a home; no law to create a state; there would be no con- 
science to inspire right; no faith to apprehend religion. 

62. A question may express a decisive, positive affirmation, 
which, in the speaker's opinion, is more important than the answer 
it anticipates (§ 211: 5; §§ 212-218); e. g. 

Why, what make you h^re? 
Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you ? 
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? 

Who, then, is Paul, and who is Apollos, [I point them out as 
interesting in themselves; and affirm that they are] but ministers 
by whom ye belitived '? 

The direct question (repeated), conveying information; e. g. 
Did you see that Udy? i. e. I affirm I spoke of that Bdy; did you 
s^e her? 



54 orator's manual. 

The Motive, not the Phraseology. — Continued. 

The indirect question, seeking for information; e. g. When 
are you going to Boston? i. e. Are you going? — when? 

The negative question mai/ express that it is questionable 
whether others will agree with the speaker; e. g. Is she not beauti- 
ful? 

Would they not feel their children tread, 
With clanking chains, above their head? 

But did not Chance at length her error mend? 
Did no subverted empire mark his end ? 

The double question, containing no affirmation, — the whole 
answer questionable; e. g. Shall we go to the store or hotel? Yfes, 
to the store; or No, let us stay h&re. 

"Who is the greater?" says the German moralist; "the wise 
man who lifts himself above the storms of time, and from aloof 
looks down upon them, and yet takes no part therein; H^" 

Contrasted Motives ■with same Phraseology; 

Rising Inflection. 

63. The anticipative, indecisive, subordinate, insignificant, trite, 
questionable, negative, respectively lead us to express: 

Hesitation, in view of the inexperienced : There's a path 
through the woods here. 

Uncertainty, in view of the doubtful : It must be so. 

Faint praise, in view of the mediocre : He declaims very 
well. 

Indifference, in view of mere formality : How do you do? 

Disapprobation, in view of the evil : John has returned home. 

Discontent, in view of the limited : You see all there is left. 

Sorrow, in view of the painful, 

Commiseration, in view of the unfortunate : 

'Tis but the falling of a withered leaf, 
The breaking of a shell — 
The rending of a veil. 

65. Series of Words. 

If all the words together are conceived of as expressing only one 
general idea, the voice falls on the last word only; i. e. all together 
are uttered like one word of many syllables. 

Knowledge, truth, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone give vital- 
ity to the n^ecbanism of existence. 



CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 55 

The Motive, not the Phrase olog-y. — Continued. 

The indirect question, asserting a belief; e. g. When are you 
going to Boston ? i. e. You are going; — when?. 

The negative question usually expresses a positive behef that 
others will agree with the speaker; e. g. Is she not beautiful? 

Why, then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from 
a civil to a national war? And since we must fight it through, why 
not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we 
gain the victory? 

The double question, containing an affirmation, — part of the 
answer positively known; e. g. Shall we go to the store or hotel? 
As we are going somewhere, let us go to the hotel. 

The falling part of a double question usually asserts the ques- 
tioner's opinion, as in this, continued from the opposite page: 

"^^g or he who, from the height of quiet and repose, throws 
himself boldly into the battle-tumult of the world ? ' ' 

Contrasted Motives with same Phraseology ; 

Falling Inflection. 

64. The conclusive, decisive, interesting, important, notewortht/, 
affirmative, positive, respectively lead us to express : 

Readiness, in view of the experienced : There's a path 
through the woods here. 

Assurance, in view of the certain : It must be so. 

Commendation, in view of the excellent : He declaims very 
well. 

Respect, in view of hearty esteem : How do you do. 

Approbation, in view of the good : John has returned hdme. 

Content, in view of the abundant : You see all there is Mt. 

Joy, in view of the pleasurable. 

Congratulation, in view of the fortunate : 

Welcome her, all things useful and sw^et; 
Scatter the blossoms under her ffeet. 
Br^ak, happy land, into earlier flowers. 

Series of Words. 

If each word is conceived of as expressing a specific idea, the 
voice falls on each, 

Mr. President, and fellow-citizens — at the opening of a speech. 

Knowledge, truth, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone give vital- 
ity to the mechanism of existence. 



56 orator's manual. 

Our own selfishness, our own neglect, our own p^sions, and our 
own vices, will furnish the elements of our destruction. 

66. Series of Clauses. 

Where a connecting con junction {and, or) before the last clause 
shows that the mind anticipates that the series is about to be 
brought to a close : 

If the series closes the sentence, the voice usually rises on the 
clause next to the last. 

It should be the labor of a genuine and noble patriotism to raise 
the life of a nation to the level of its privileges ; to harmonize its 
general practice with its abstract principles; to reduce to actual facts 
the ideals of its institutions; to elevate instruction into knowledge; 
and to deepen knowledge into wisdom. 

If it does not close the sentence, the voice usually rises on the 
last clause. 

The causes of good and evil are so various and uncertain, so often 
entangled with each other, so diversified by various relations, and so 
much subject to accidents which cannot be foreseen, that he who 
would fix his condition upon incontestible reasons of preference must 
live and die inquiring and deliberating. (See § 215.) 

Circinnflex or Wave, ending with Rising Inflection. 

67. Used when a subordinate motive is to point out spe- 
cifically an object or idea as in itself interesting, important, 
noteworthy, positive, aJBfirmative, conclusive, decisive, etc.; 
but when the main motive is to point forward or atvay from 
it to something else that is to be or has been mentioned in 
connection with it. The wave thus suggests the double 
relation of words used in cases of 

69. Comparison; i. e. in illustrations, similes, metaphors, 
etc. (see §218-19); e.g. 

Was not Abraham [we need to anticipate in our inflection what 
is to be said about Abraham, yet we need also to point him out as 
Abraham. We combine the two thus:] Abraham, our father, justi- 
fied by works when he had offered Isaac, his son, upon the altar? 

Notice how, when one turns off from a straightforward course 
of thought to find an illustration, this wavering inflection represents 
his motive: 

And in the same house remain, eating and drinking such things 
Note.— This last eentence is couliuued on page 58. 



CONTRASTED IXFLECTIOXS. 57 

Our own selfishness, oar own neglect, our own passions, and our 
own vices, will furnish the elements of our destruction. 

Series of Clauses. 

Where the absence of a connecting- conjunction before the last 
clause shows that the mind does not anticipate that the series is 
about to be brought to a close : 

If the series doses the sentence, the voice may fall on the clause 
next to the last. 

He only is advancing in life whose heart is getting softer, whose 
blood warmer, whose brain quicker, whose spirit is entering into 
living p&ace. 

If it does not close the sentence, the voice may fall on the last 
clause. 

The laugh of mirth that vibrates through the h&art, the t^ars 
that freshen the dry wastes within, the music that brings childhood 
back, the prayer that calls the future near, the doubt which makes 
us meditate, the d^ath which startles us with mystery, the hard- 
ship which forces us to striiggle, the anxiety that ends in trust, — 
are the true nourishments of our natural being. {See § 215.) 

Circumflex or Wave, ending with Falling Inflection. 

68. Used when the tnain motive is to poi7it out specifically 
an object or idea as in itself interesting, important, note- 
worthy, positive, afiirmative, conclusive, decisive, etc.; but 
when a subordinate motive is to point forward also or aivay 
from it to something else that is to be or has been men- 
tioned in connection with it. The wave thus suggests the 
double relation of words used in cases of 

70. Comparison; i. e. in illustrations, similes, metaphors, 

etc. (see §218-19); e. g. 

Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins 
[we need to point out virgins with this inflection, yet the likeness is 
to ten virgins which took, etc. We need, also, this anticipative up- 
ward inflection, so we combine the two] virgins which took their 
lamps and went into a far country. 

The graves of the best of men, of the noblest martyrs, are like 
the graves of the Herrnhuters (the Moravian brethren) — level, and 
undistinguishable from the universal earth ; and if the earth could 
Note.— This last sentence is continued on page 59. 



58 orator's ma:n^ual. 

as they give, for the laborer is worthy of his hire. Go not from house 
to house. 

The wave may be continued through an illustrative passage 
(§ 21), if this be short: 

They are like unto children, sitting in the market-place, and 
calling one to another, and saying. We have piped unto you, and ye 
have not d^inced; we have mourned to you, and ye have not wept. 

71. Contrast, i. e. Antithesis, expressed (see § 213); e. g. 

Are all these innovations to be made in order to increase the 
influence of the executive [pointing away to the word j90/;n?rtr] 
power, and is nothing to be done in favor oif the popular part of the 
Constitution ? 

Implied; e. g. 

What! in such an hour as this, can it be that people of high 
rank, and professing high principles, that they or their families 
should seek to thrive on the spoils of misery, and fatten on the meals 
wrested from industrious pdverty? 

'Tis not my trade. When men are brave the sickle is a sp^ar. 

73. Where there is a contrast between the motive and 
the phraseology, [^= 

In the imperative mood; e. g. Never fear that, if he be so 
resolved. 

In questions; e. g. Where g'^5ws? And you mean to say you 
don't know? 

In cases in which the mind is wavering between a positive and 
negative expression, i. e. in doubt and uncertainty: 

Tell. Look upon my boy! what mean you? Look upon 
My boy, as though I guessed it! Guessed the trial 
You'd have me make! 

i^^ The circumflex in cotnparisons and contrasts is tvell 

given v^^hen slightly given. Don't make it too distinct. 

74. Double Motives, i. e. contrast between a real 
and an assumed motive, i^^" 

1st Clo. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers 
and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. 

2d Clo. Was he a gentleman? 

1st Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms, 

2d Clo. Why, he had none. 

1st Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the 
Scripture? The Scripture says, Adam digged. Could he dig with- 
out arms ? 



CONTRASTED IXFLECTIOXS. 59 

give up her secrets, our whole globe would appear a Westmin- 
ster Abbey laid flat. 

John does everything backward. He is the dorsal fin of human- 
ity. He is a human obliquity. He might have attended a school for 
crabs. In fact, he is one of Crabb's synonyms. 

73. Contrast, i, e. Antithesis, expressed or implied {see § 149: 
b, c; also, § 213); e. g. 

It is these [as contrasted with other implied things pointed to] 
which I love and venerate in England. I should feel ashamed of an 
enthusiasm for Italy [pointing away to this] or Greece, did I not also 
feel it for a land like this. In an American, it would seem to me 
degenerate and ungrateful to hang with passion upon the traces of 
Homer and Virgil, and follow, without emotion, the nearer and 
plainer footsteps of Virgil and Milton. 

It is not so far as a man doubts, but so far as he believes, that he 
can achieve or perfect anything. All things are possible to him that 
belie veth. 

°^^g the circumflex suggests the idea usually conveyed 

by the phraseology . 

In the conditional mood ; e. g. See if one of them wiU dare to 
lift his arm up in your cause if I forbid them. 

In negations and questions ; e. g. 

There is not a man among you all 

Who can reproach me that I used my power 

To do him an injustice. 

By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? 

You do iioL mean — no — no — 
You would not lidve m<' makt' a trial of 
My skill upon my child! Impossible! 

°^S i- e. in Double Entendre, insincere expressions, 
jesting, ridicule, iroiiij, sarcasm, mockertj. {See § 213.) 

You meant no harm: oh, no: your thoughts are innocent; you 
have nothing to hide; your breast is pure, stainless, all truth. 

yes, he is a man of honor, indeed ! His words and deeds 
show it. He would be a gain to our Society. 

It isn't the secret I care about; it's the slight, Mr. Caudle. Man 
and wife indeed! I should like to know how that can be when a 
man's a mason, — when he keeps a secret that sets him and his wife 
apart. 



60 orator's manual. 

75. Starting Key of the Slide, or Slide Balance. 

As contrasted with the syllable or syllables immediately 
preceding it — 

Ordinarily, the voice descends to start a rising inflec- 
tion on a lower key, and ascends to start a falling inflection 
on a higher key ; but 

Occasionally, for the sake of variety, and always at 
the end of a speech, paragraph or sentence that sums up 
or concludes a particular phase of the subject under con- 
sideration, the voice ascends to start a rising inflection on 
a higher key, and descends to start a falling inflection on 
a lower key. {See §§ 82, 83.) 

In other words, the Emphatic Slide should ordinarily be so 
inserted as to cause its beginning and end to balance (hence the 
term used in this book) equally above and below the line of the gen- 
eral movement ; thus, 

/ / / or \ \ \ 

not ' ' ' or ^ ^ ^ 

76. a. Reasons. Slides begun rightly do not interrupt the 
onward flow of the general movement. Therefore, in connection 
with regularly recurring pauses or rhythm, this way of starting 
rising inflections low, and falling inflections high, causes that impor- 
tant factor in holding the attention of an audience called drift 
(§ 154). All successful speakers manifest this characteristic when 
excited. The trained elocutionist should manifest it at all times. 

In the following, falling inflections can be given on all the words 
marked (§ 50) without interfering at all with the buoyancy and 
swing of the general movement : 

When Freedom, from her mountain height, 

Unfiirl'd her standard to the air. 
She tore the azure robe of night. 

And set the stars of glory there ; 
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies. 
And striped its piire, celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light ; 



CONTRASTED IXFLECTIOXS 61 

Then from his mansion in the sun 
She caird her eagle-bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 

b. Again, ease and audibleness (especially in bringing out 
distinctly the word emphasized by the downward inflection) are 
both facilitated by starting to slide the voice up from a compara- 
tively loio key, and to slide it doicn from a comparatively Jiigh key. 

c. Besides this, the do-wnward movement indicates, as we 
have found (§ 43 : e), an affirmation of positive importance. When 
used, therefore, on the syllables preceding or starting the rising in- 
flection, it arrests attention by suggesting an affirmative state of 
mind, dealing with something of positive importance, notwithstand- 
ing the negative or questioning significance of the inflection itself. 
Again, the upward movement of the voice indicates anticipation, 
subordination (§43 : d), etc. When used, therefore, on the syllables 
preceding or starting the falling inflection, it holds the attention 
by suggesting that something of still greater importance is to folloio, 
notwithstanding the relative importance of that now- emphasized by 
the inflection itself. Every one recognizes that the down-ward 
inflection started high is not the concluding word of a speech 
or paragraph, but if started low, the clause or sentence that it 
ends seems to be isolated from what is to follow. 

d. But occasionally, at the end of a speech, paragraph or 
sentence that sums up or concludes a particular phase of a subject, 
the rising or falling of syllables preceding the one on which the 
inflection starts serves to increase the effect of its rising or falling 
emphasis. 

77. As accent is an elementary form of emphasis, the principles 
stated apply to it. Ordinarily, in a passage where there is a gen- 
eral tendency to rising inflections, the accented syllable is on a lower 
key than it would be if it were unaccented, and where there is a 
tendency to falling inflections it is on a higher key. But occasion- 
ally, as in the case of the emphatic inflection, this condition is re- 
versed. 

a. Here all the rising inflections start on a lower key than the 
preceding syllable : 



Is any man so weak as now 

to hope for a reconciliation with. England, which shall leave 
either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his 



62 okatok's manual. 

own life and liis own honor ? Are not you; s^r, who sit in 
that chair, — is not he, our venerahle colleague near you, — 
are i^ot both already proscribed and predestined objects of 
punishment and of vengeance ? 

b. Here all the falling inflections start on a higher key than the 
preceding syllable : 



I Bay God bless ad - vers - i - ty 

when it is properly understood ! But the rock upon which 
men and upon which nations split is prosperity. This man 
says that we have grown to be a giant, and that we may de- 
part from the wdsdom of our youth. But I say that now is 
the time to take care ; we are great enough ; let us be satis- 
fied ; prevent the growth of our ambition, to prevent our 
pride from swelling, and hold on to what we have got. 

c. Here the last rising inflection is started on a higher key than 
the preceding syllable : 

Shall I compare myself, almost born, and certainly bred, 
in the tent of my father, that illustrious commander, — my- 
self, the conqueror not only of the ilpine nations but of the 
Alps themselves, — myself, w^ho w^as the piipil of you all, 
before I became your commander, — to this six month.s' 
general ? or shall I 



compare 

d. Here the last falling inflection is started on a lower key than 
the preceding syllable : 

We yielded to their prayers for pardon ; we released 
them from the blockade ; we made peace with them when 
conquered, and we afterward held them under our protec- 
tion when they were borne 



e. Here the rising inflection on nations begins on a higher key, 
and the falling one on ours on a lower key, than the preceding 
syllable : 

Shall 1 be told these are idle f^ars ? That in a war with 
Kussia, no matter for whdt caiise Avaged, we must be the 



MELODY. 63 

Victors? That, in short, all Etirope combined could not bl6t 
this tJnion from the map of nations? Ah, sir, that is not all 
T fear, I fear success even more than defeat. The Senator 
from Michigan was right when he said that our fears were 
to be found at home. I do fear ourselves. Commit our peo- 
ple once to unnecessary foreign wars, — let victory encour- 
age the military spirit, already too prevalent am6ng them, 
— and Roman history will have no chapter bloody enough 
to be transmitted to posterity side by side with oitrs. 

Read exercises in §§ 211, 213, with special reference to this sub- 
ject, especially Nos. 5, "7, 12, 28; also §§ 215, 219, 220, and § 218. 

MELODY. 

IS. Before considering- the significance of Melody (§ 92) let us 
notice the connection between it and the subject just considered. 

a. If the mental requirements underlying- the pauses, inflections, 
and keys on which the inflections start, are understood and applied, 
there is usually little occasion to study the subject of Melody, so 
far as concerns the i^hy steal eff^ect produced on the earhij the success- 
ive notes of the voice. Now and then, however, a pupil, in order to 
cure a tendency to monotony, needs to study 

The Emphatic Slides as Related to Melody. 
79. Where the Melody needs to be greatly variecl 
as in light, gay, lively, uncontrolled passages, the unemphatic 
sijllaMes should gradiiaUy ascend the scale (in degrees diifer- 
ing according to the degree of emphasis to be given) to reach 
an emphatic slide that starts higher than the general pitch; 
and descend it to reach one that starts loiver than the general 
pitch. 

=1- 




and go to - day^ 

a. In an ascending passage, the accented syllable is usually 
at the same pitch as the syllable preceding- it; in a descending one, 
at the same pitch as the syllable following it; e. g. 




Are you go - iug there to-day? 
I am go - ing there to-day. 



64 orator's manual. 

80. Where the Melody does not need to be greatly 
varied, as in grave, dignitied discourse (6>^ Monotone, §§ 
93-95), the miemphatic syllables should be Jiept, to a great 
extent, 0}i one key. The ascent of the voice from that key 
to begin downward inflections and accents, and its descent to 
begin upward ones, will afford sufficient variety. {See § 109.) 

Are bulwarks like these ever constrlicted to rep^l the 
incursions of a contemptible enemy? Was it a trivial and 
ordinary occasion wdiich raised this storm of indignation in 
the Parliament of that day? Is the ocean ever lashed by 
the tempest to waft a feather or to drowm a fly? By this 
4ct you have a solemn legislative declaration " that it is in- 
compatible with liberty to send any subject out of the realm 
under pretense of any crime supposed or alleged to be com- 
mitted in a foreign jurisdiction, except that crime be cap- 
ital? 

Read, also, in the same way, the passages in § 77: b, c, d, e, f; 
§§ 94, 95; also, § 211-220: 1, 5, 7, 12, and parts of all in § 215. 

81. But not more than three successive unemphatic or emphatic 
(though separated by intervening unemphatic) syllables should be 
sounded at precisely the same pitch, otherwise there will be mo- 
notony. 

82. The Triad of the Cadence. At least the last three 
sijllables ending a speech, 'paragraph or sentence that sums up 
or concludes a particular phase of a subject under consider- 
ation must gradually rise with a rising and fall ivith a fall- 
ing inflection. {See §§ 75-77.) 



Did you gay they had all goue off? 



Of course they have all gone 

The only explanation that needs to be ^iven of this principle 
(aside from that in §§ 75-77, which see,) is that the ear requires it. 
A similar requirement leads to the following: 

83. The Emphatic Triad of the Climax. At least the 
last three (and sometimes more) etnphatic icords of an ascend- 
ing series of clauses must gradually ascend the scale; and 
the last three of a descending series inust gradually descend 
the scale. 



MELODY. 65 

1. If I were an Am^rican,'^ as I am an i^NGLlSHMAlsr,' 
while a foreign troop was landed in my country,^ I never^ 
would lay down my arms! — never !^ never! never! ^" 

2. Who brands me on the forehead,'' breaks my sword, ^ 
Or lays the blobd}^ scourge upon my BACK,^ 
Wrongs me not hdl/^ so much as he who shuts 

The gates of hoxor'^ on me, — turning out 
The Roman from his BIRTHRIGHT.^ 

a. The gradual descent in Pitch, is the important factor in 
this Melody of the Cadence or Climax, If we bear this in 
mind, we shall avoid the artificial wave-like movement of the 

voice often heard upon the stage and among young- declaimers, 
arising from a supposition that they must invariably slide the tones 
up on the next to the last emphatic word. But often the sense will 
not warrant this. Notice how much weaker these two sentences 
become when the voice rises on life and God; or, if ccdl and vision 
be taken as the emphatic words next to the last, notice how much 
weaker is a decided upward inflection on these words than is a 
merely suspended inflection : 

1. The only principles of public conduct which are 
worthy of a gentleman or a man, are to sacrifice estate, 
health, ease, applause, and even life, at the sacred call of 
his cduntry. 

2. If you could endow the smallest insect with the sense 
of the beautiful and the infinite, this imperceptible atom 
would comprehend eternity, and would see God, and this 
vision would render it immortal. 

84. Long sentences may contain long clauses, and within these 
ehoH clauses. And the emphatic words in the long clauses may 
gradually ascend or descend the scale relatively to one another ; so, 
too, the suhordinately emphatic words in the short clauses. In the 
following the emphatic words printed in similar type gradually 
ascend or descend the scale relatively to one another. 

When my eyes shall be turned to beh61d, for the last 
time, the sun in the heaven, may I n6t see him shining on 
the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious 
Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; — on 
a land rent with civil feiids, or drenched, it may be, in 
fraternal blood ! Let their l^st feeble and lingering glance 
r&ther behold the gorgeous ensign of the Repliblic, now 
kn6wn and honored through6ut the e^rth, still " full high 
advanced," — its arms and tr6phies streaming in their orig- 
inal lustre, — not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single 
3* 



66 orator's manual. 

star obscured; — bearing, for its m6tto, no stich miserable 
interr6gatory ds, " Whdt is all this ivdrth?'' nor those 6ther 
w6rds of delusion and foil}-, " Liberty //rs^, and Union dfter- 
tvards,'' — but everywhere spread 411 over, in characters 
of living light, blazing on 411 its dmple FOLDS, as they fl6at 
over the SEA and over the LAND, and in ^very wixD tinder 
the whole heaven, that OTHER sentiment, dekv to evenj 
true American heart, — " Liberty AND Union, now and for- 
ever, one and INSEPARABLE;' 

a. In long sentences, the emphatic words usually ascend the 
scale gradually through the introductory relative or subordinate 
clauses, and descend it on the principle or concluding ones, as in the 

sentence just quoted; 

b. Or else they ascend the scale till the second or third clause 
from the end is reached, after which the voice gradually descends; e. g. 

May you stand as unimpeached in honor as in power; 
may you stand, not as a substitute for virtue, but as an 
ornament of virtue, as a seclirity for virtue ; may you stand 
long, and long stand the terror of tyrants; may you stand 
the refuge of afQicted nations; may you stand a sacred 
temple, for the perpetual residence of an inviolable justice! 

21^" Apply these principles to all the selections in §315; and, in 
connection with this subject, study transitions, §§ 147-151; massing, 
§§ 152, 153. 

85. Tlie Pitcli or Melody appropriate for tlie different 
portions of an oration or declamation, considered as a whole, will 
be best understood if we regard it as a development of the single 
long emphatic sentence. At first the key should be comparatively 
low, no higher above the level of conversation than is necessary to 
render it audible. It should then become varied, high or low to 
suit the various sentiments expressed. Lastly, a few sentences 
before the close, especially in long orations, it should return again 
to the level of conversation. This mode of closing, especially after 
an emphatic climax, is very effective. 

The Unemphatic Slides as Related to Melody. 
86. On unemphatic syllables we use 

a. Discrete tones. These are separate from one another, like 
the notes of a piano, and each is sounded wholly on one key. They 
are used in syllables of short sharp quantity ; e. g. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — 
No ! no ! no ! 

b. Concrete tones. These glide into one another like the 
notes of a violin, and each passes over an interval of a tone or 



MELODY. 67 

half-tone. They are used in syllables of medium or long quantity ; 
e. g. Are you all there ? 

These tones are natural to the voice; but the flexibility of the 
organs, that comes from practicing the general exercises (§§ 8-14) 
will improve the quality of them. 

87. Unempliatic concrete tones (because unemphatic, 
§ 48 : d) slide up the scale, except at the end of a clause or sen- 
tence whose main inflection is downward. There the tones slid« 
down the scale and receive initial stress (§ 100: b). 



•^^ ^ ; ^ .> it 



I said he was a - way from home, not pres - ent. 

An upward slide on home would give us one characteristic of a min- 
isterial tone; and any stress there except initial would give us a 
drawl. 

a. Sometimes the upward slide of an unemphatic syllable is 
wrongly made on every emphatic one as a preliminary to its f'all- 
ing_mflection, which thus becomes circumflex; e. g. They are gone. 
—tm ^r^ '^^ The drawling monotony resulting is usually cured by 
■ ■ r " learning to give such inflections with a short, sharp 
initial stress; e. g. They are gone; ^—^ or with an abrupt 
terminal stress (§ 101). ^^ - 

88. Diatonic Melody results where the unemphatic 
concrete syllables in a passage slide over an interval of a 
whole musical tone (diatonic), and the etnphatic syllables 
over an interval of at least tivo musical tones. It is used 
in all ordinary statements and arguments, especially when 
referring to occurrences and objects that are pleasing. 

a. To cultivate it, where it is lacking, read pieces expressive of 
hght and joyous sentiments, as in § 92: a, b, c; §§221-223, 227; 
also pieces requiring vehemence, as in §§ 211, 213. 

89. Semitonic or Chromatic Melody results when 
the unemphatic concrete syllables in a passage slide over an 
interval of onUj half a musical tone, and the emphatic sylla- 
bles over an interval usually of a tone and a half, forming 
what musicians term a minor cadence. (§ 46 : note.) 

a. This kind of melody gives us the tone popularly called plain- 
tive. It is heard in ordinary crying; and, hke it, springs from a 
consciousness of inherent weakness in one's self, or sympathy for it 



68 orator's manual. 

in others, such as to interfere with the ordinary strength and elas- 
ticity of utterance. Semitonic melody is used in expressing the sub- 
dued forms of grief; subjectively for regret, contrition, complaint, 
supplication; objectively for tender sympathy, commiseration and 
pity. In comedy, it expresses a travesty of these emotions. 

90. In the pulpit, at the bar, and in ordinary reading, it should 
be avoided when there is no pathos in the sentiment. Break up 
the habit by reading pieces in Diatonic Melody, expressive of very 
light, joyous or vehement sentiments. (§ 88: a.) 

91. The following passages demand Semitonic Melody; also 
aU the selections in § 228. 

Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes 
of Arabia will not sv^eeten this little hand. Oh! oh! 
Oh! 

Jiidge, you gods, how dearly Csesar loved him! 

This was the most unkindest cut of all; 

For, when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 

Quite vancjuished him. Then burst his mighty heart: 

And, in his mantle mufHing up his face, 

Even at the base of Pompey's statue. 

Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 

Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen! 

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 

While bloody treason flourished over us. 

One more unfortunate, 

Weary of breath, 
Eashly importunate, 

Gone to her death! 

Take her up tenderly, 

Lift her with c^re; 
Fashioned so slenderly, 

Young, and so fair! 

*' It's time for me to go to that there berryin'-ground, 
sir," he rettirns, with a wild look. 

" Lie d6wn, and tell me. What burying-ground, Jo? " 

" Where they laid him as wos wery good tome; wery 

good to me, indeed, he wos. It's time fur me to go d6wn 

to that there berryin'-ground, sir, and ask to be put al6ng 

with him. I wants to gd there and be bfcrried. He used fur 



MELODY. 69 

to say to me, ' I am as p6or as yOn, to-day, Jo,' he sez. I 
wants to tell him that t am as poor as him, now, And have 
come there to be laid along with him." 

92. Varied and Unvaried Melody. Light, gmj, 

lively, uncontroUecl moods or motives find expression in a 

melody comparatively varied ; serious, grave, dignified, and 

self-determined ones in a melody comparatively unvaried 

{see §§ 79, 80, 32, 140-145). 

Examples of this principle will be found in §§ 143, 144. Here 
it is important to notice only the following: 

a. In laug-hing- mirth and g-ayety, the light, lively mood expresses 
itself in a melody much varied,— often in successive discrete tones, 
given in different keys, with a light, abrupt force (§ 107: b), initial stress 
(§ 100), and short quantity (§ 39). 

Rusp. Ha, ha, ha! He is a queerity, by all that's quiz- 
zish ! 

Rack. He is an insufferable bore. 

Mrs. Rack. no; I think he's very amusing, now and 
then. 

Rusp. He is a traveler, I think you say. 

Mrs. Rack. Poor Doctor ! The few ideas he has are al- 
ways traveling post, and generally upon cross-roads. His 
head is like New York on May-day, — all the furniture wan- 
dering. 

b. In astonishment, surprise and exultation the mind has not 
yet control of itself, and expresses the fact by a melody varied on long" con- 
crete slides, accompanied by a circumflex of double meaning; i. e. of un- 
certainty (§ 74), mainly expulsive force, and prolonged stress and quantity; 
sometimes, also, by an aspirated quality. 

Tell. Look 
Upon my boy! — what mean you? Look upon 
My boy, as though I guessed it! Guessed the trial 
You'd have me make! Guessed it 
Instinctively! You do not mean — no — no — 
You would not have me make a trial of 
My skill upon my child! Impossible! 

Albert. Father, I'm safe — 
Your Albert's safe ! Dear father, speak to me ! 
Speak to me ! 



70 orator's manual. 

c. In adoration and worship the seriousness of the mind necessitates 
an unvaried melody, while its joyousness necessitates variety; hence we have 
concrete tones, successively starting at about the same pitchy but Bliding 
slowly a long distance up and down the scale. 

Praise ye the L6rd. Praise ye the Lord from the heav- 
ens ; praise him in the heights. Praise ye him, all his 
angels : praise ye him, all his hdsts. Praise ye him, siin 
and moon : praise him, all ye stars of light. Praise 
him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above 
the heavens. Let them praise the name of the Lord: for 
he commanded, and they were created. He hath also stab- 
lished them for ever and ever: he hath made a decree which 
shall not pass. Praise the Lord from the earth, jq dragons, 
and all deeps: fire and hail, snow and vapors; stormy wind 
fulfilling his word: mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, 
and all cedars; beasts, and all cattle; creeiDing things, and 
flying fowl; kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and 
all judges of the earth; both young men, and maidens; old 
men, and children; let them praise the name of the Lord: 
for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth 
and heaven. 

Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise 
him in the firmament of his power. Praise him for his 
mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent great- 
ness. Praise him with the sound of the trumpet; praise 
him with the psaltery and harp. Praise him with the 
timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments 
and organs. Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise 
him upon the high-sounding cymbals. Let everything that 
hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord. 

[See, also, %\02: 3,4,5.) 

d. In contrition and penitence these concrete tones become semitonic. 

Have mercy upon me, G6d, according to thy loving- 
kindness: according to the multitude of th}'' tender mer- 
cies, blot 6ut my transgressions! Wash me thoroughly 
from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I 
acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before 
me. Against thee, — thee only, — have I sinned, and done 
this evil in thy sight. Hide thy face from my sins, and 
blot out all mine iniquities! 



MELODY. 71 

e. In horror and despair, the low, concrete tones are uttered with the 
least possible suggestion of variety (see § 94 : 3, 4) . 

The last three (c, d. and e) are given with the monotone. 

93. The Monotone is caused by a repetition, more fre- 
quent than in other cases, partly of the same key at the be- 
ginning of emphatic or unemphatic concrete slides and 
partly of the same sort of a median stress (§ 102) on all 
syllables whose quantity can be prolonged. 

These kinds of repetitions suggest monotony. But the voice 
really moves up and down the scale sufficiently to answer all the re- 
quirements of variety. Moreover, the median stress (§ 102) that may 
make prominent either the beginning", middle or end of a concrete 
tone, may cause this tone to appear to differ in pitch from another 
that begins on the same key, or to agree in pitch with another that 
begins on a different key. These facts combine to allow of sufficient 
modulation to rescue the monotone from real monotony {see, also, 
§ 80). 

94. The Monotone is used in almost all cases in which, 
as already described, the general pitch is low, tending to 
very low, and the special pitch unvaried; i. e. to express 
that which oppresses the mind with a sense of iveiglit, 
gratideur, power, majesty, splendor or sublimity, inspiring 
reverence, solemnity, aive, amazement, terror or horror. 

a. In such cases, whenever we speak naturally, the presence of 
something to subdue the free exuberance of feeling jjrevents variety 
of tone. At the same time, as this presence is conceived of as ex- 
ternal, rather than internal, — caused by grandeur without, rather 
than by weakness within, — it does not always, though it may 
sometimes, necessitate the wailing or plaintive effects of semitonic 
melody. 

Read 92: c, d; also the following, with a monotone, in slow time, low pitch, 
smooth, sustained, effusive or expulsive force (§§ 106-120), orotund quality (§ 134), 
long quantity and predominating median stress (§ 102). 

1. Be merciful unto me, God, b& merciful unto me: 
for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy 
wings will I make my refuge. 

Partially semitonic. 

2. And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled 
together ; and every mountain and island were moved out 



72 orator's ma:n^ual. 

of their places. And the kings of the earth, and the great 
men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the 
mighty men, and every bond-man, and every free-man, hid 
themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; 
and said to the mountains and rocks, " Fall on us and hide 
us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and 
from the wrath of the Lamb : for the great day of his 
vva-ath is come; and who shall be able to stand?" {See 
% 220.) 

Idem, but at medium pitch. 

3. I had a dream, which was not all a dream. 
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars 
Did wander, darkling, in the eternal space, 
Kayless and pathless, and the icy earth 

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; 
Morn came, and went, and came, and brought no day, 
And men forgot their passions, in the dread 
Of this their desolation; and all hearts 
Were chill'd into a selfish jDrayer for light. 

Idem^ but at very low pitch, with aspirated pectoral quality (§ 129) and 
tremulous and thorough, as well as median, stress (§§ 105, 104, 102) : 

4. Methought I heard a voice cry, " Sleep no more. 
Macbeth doth murder sleep — the innocent sleep: 
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, 
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in Life's feast." 

Still it cried, " Sleep no more! " to all the house. 

§§ 219, 220, 226, contain examples of monotone at medium pitch. Consult 
also the passages mentioned in § 80. 

95. Poetry, especially rhyme, should be read with a mono- 
tone. In reading it thus avoid sliding the voice up perceptibly on 
an unemphatie rhyming syllable. Give this no more than the slide 
appropriate for an unemphatie concrete tone. Be careful, too, to 
slide the voice dowmvard at least two tones, Tind so to give a fuU 
cadence whenever the sense of a clause is completed; e. g. 

Middle pitch, orotund quality, long quantity, predominating median stress, 
sustained effusive and expulsive force : 

I know that age to age succeeds, 
Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, 
A dust of sy^ems and of creeds. 



73 



I cannot hide that some have striven, 
Achieving calm, to whom was given 
The joy that mixes man with heaven: 

Who, rowing hard against the stream, 
Saw distant gates of Eden gleam, 
And did not dream it was a dream. 

Where the lamps quiver 

So far in the river, 

With many a light 

From window and casement. 

From garret to basement, 

She stood, with amazement, 

H6useless by night. 

Forty flags w^ith their silver stars, 
Forty flags with their crimson bars, 

Flapped in the morning wind: the sun 
Of noon looked down, and saw not one. 

Up rose old Barbara Frietehie then, 
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; 

Bravest of all in Frederick town, 

She took up the flag the men hauled ddwn; 

In her attic window the staff she set, 
To show that one heart was loyal yet. 

Flash'd all their sabres bare. 
Flashed as they turned in air. 
Sabring the gunners there. 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wonder'd: 
Plunged in the battery-smoke. 
Right through the line they broke; 
Cossack and Russian 
R^el'd from the sabre-stroke. 



Semkonic. 



the famine and the f^ver! 
the wasting of the famine! 
the blasting of the f^ver! 



4 



74 orator's manual. 

All the earth was sick and filmished; 
Hungry was the air ardund them, 
Hungry was the sky abOve them, 
And the hungry stars in heaven 
Like the eyes of w61ves glared at them ! 

Read also, on the different keys and with the diff'erent quaUty 
marked for each, §§ 322-225. 

Key. 

96. Light, gay, lively or uncontrolled states of mind find 
expression in a key comparatively high.; serious, grave, 
dignified or self-determined states in a key comparatively 
low. (§§ 32, 140-145.) 

For illustrations of this principle see §§ 143, 144, 145-153. Prac- 
tice the exercises in § 18. 

Special attention needs to be given to the difficult matter of 
transitions in pitch, treated in §§ 147-151, which see. 

97. A common fault is to invariably fly to high 
pitch, as well as to rapid time, when passing to a very em- 
phatic or forcible word, even when this expresses an idea 
relatively more serious, grave, dignified or self-deter- 
mined. 

a. The doivmvard inflections in words like those in italics in the 
following- examples should be started slightly, if at all, higher (and 
sometimes lower) tlian the general 2^itch; and in all cases the voice 
should pause before or after them, and utter them slowly. The 
longer the pause, the higher and louder will it be proper to utter 
the word following it. 

I saw 
The cOrse, | the mangled cOrse, | and then I cried 
For vengeance! || Rouse, || ye Rdmans! | Rouse, || ye slaves! | 
Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl 
To see them | die. || 

Fm with you Qnce again! — I call to you 
With all my | voice — | I hold my hands to you, 
To show they still are | free. \ I | rush \ to you 
As thotigh I could | embrace you ! 



75 



FORCE. 
Special Force. 

98. Special Force, by which is meant the force that is used 
with special syllables or words, may be abrupt or smooth, loud or 
soft. The kinds and degrees of force are considered in §§ 106-108, 
As a rule, 

a. Special Force should be used in the utterance of most 
words that are emphasized by pauses or inflections, or that 
stand at the end of a sentence. (§§ 32, 35, 43, 140-145.) 

b. Be particularly careful to give Special Force to Adjectives 
emphasized by the pause that are essential to the sense of the nouns 
that they qualify; e. g. 

Its foundations, great \ truths, far more lasting than 
mere \ granite; its pillars, great \ rights, far more beauti- 
ful than mere \ j^orphijry; its roof, great \ hopes, swelling 
higher than any dome of bronze and gold. 

c. It is well to form a habit of giving more force to the last 
word of a sentence, because (a) otherwise one is apt to let his force 
subside on it, and utter it indistinctly; (b) this last word is usually 
important to the sense; its forcible utterance (c) conveys a sugges- 
tion of reserved power, by causing the audience to recognize that 
the speaker's breath is not exhausted, and (d) is almost essential if 
one is to start the last inflection of the sentence on a key suggesting 
that another sentence is to follow (§ 75). 

Stress. 

99. Stress is determined by the way in which force is 

applied to emphatic S341ables. 

^^^ Practice the different kinds of stress, according to 
the directions in § 15. 

a. Do not confound the method of stress with the degree of it. 
All kinds of stress may be given with a soft, as well as a loud, 
tone. 

b. To use more force with an utterance necessitates using more 
^nnewithit; therefore, words emphasized by stress usually take 
longer time for their utterance than the words surroundmg them 
take. 



76 orator's manual. 

c. Mental Energy indicated hy force (§ 32) may be exerted on 
account of a subject ice or an objective motive; in other words, be- 
cause a man desires chiefly to express an idea on his oivn account, or 
to impress this on others. In the former case, the sound bursts forth 
abrujjtli/, as if the man were conscious of nothing but his own organs 
to prevent the accomphshment of his object; in the latter the sound 
is pushed forth gradually, as if the man were conscious of outside 
opposition, and of the necessity of ^jressing his point. These two 
methods, and different combinations of them, give us the following 
different kinds of stress: 

100. Initial (or E,adical) Stress > , usually neces- 
sitating explosive breathing (§ 8j or utterance (§ 10), is given 
v^hen a syllable bursts forth abruptly, v^^ith its loudest 
sound at the beginning of the utterance, which gradually 
becomes more and more faint. It is used whenever one's 
main wish is to express hhnself so as to be distinctly under- 
stood. In its mildest form it serves to render articulation 
clear and utterance precise; when stronger, it indicates bold 
and earnest assurance, positiveness and dictation; when 
strongest, vehemence that sounds an alar7n or gives way to 
demonstrative indignation. 

llt^° Of course the same passage may be read with different 
kinds of stress, according to one's conception of it. No. 6 below 
may be rendered with quick, vehement initial, or slow, determined 
terminal stress. 

Pure, moderately higli, fast. 

1. Give way! Zounds! I'm wild — mad! YQu teach m4! 
Po6h ! I have been in London before, and know it requires 
no teaching to be a modern fine gentleman. Why, it all 
lies in a niitshell : sport a curricle — walk Bond street — play 
the dandy — sing and dance well — go to the opera — put on 
your wig — pull off your overcoat, and there's a m^n of the 
first fashion in t6wn for you. D'ye think I don't know what's 
g6ing? 

Ideui. 

2. Why, yesterday, I asked a lad of fifteen which he 
preferred, algebra or geometry; and he told me — oh, hor- 
rible! — he told me he had never sti'idied them! Never 
studied gedmetry ! never studied algebra! and fifteen years 
Old! The dark ages are rettirning. 



FORCE. 77 

Idem, moderately fast, medium pitch. 

3. Life is short at the best; why not make it cheerful? 
Do you know that longevity is promoted by a tranquil, 
happy habit of thought and temper? Do you know that 
cheerfulness, like mercy, is twice blessed; blessing "him 
that gives and him that takes? " 

Orotund. 

4. Back! beardless boy! 
Back! minion! Holdst thou thus at naught 
The lesson I so lately taught? 

Aspirated guttural. 

5. We will be revenged: revenge; about — seek — burn, 
fire — kill — slay! Let not a traitor live ! 

Guttural and aspirated orotund, medium pitch, explosive force. 

6. You speak like a hoy, — like a boy who thinks the old 
gnarled oak can be twisted as easily as the sapling. Can I 
forget that I have been branded as an outlaw, stigmatized 
as a traitor, a price set on my head as if I had been a wolf, 
my family treated as the dam and cubs of the hill- fox, 
whom all may tOrment, vilify, degrade and insult; the very 
name which came to me from a long and noble line of mar- 
tial ancestors denounced as if it were a spell to conjure up 
the devil with? 

m° See, also, § 217 and §§ 211, 214, 217, 219. 

a. WitlLOut initial stress, gentleness becomes an inarticulate and 
timid drawl, and vehemence mere hrawUng bombast. With too fre- 
quent use of it, one's delivery becomes characterized by an appear- 
ance of self-asseHion, assurance oi preciseness. 

b. In order to prevent one form of what is termed a tone, ini- 
tial stress should be given to the last word of a sentence ending 
with a downward inflection not particularly emphatic, and therefore 
not requiring some other kind of stress {see § 87: a); e. g. on the 
word you in the following : 

There's a man of the first fashion in town for you! 

101. Terminal (Final or Vanisliing) Stress <, 

which may be used with both expulsive and explosive breath- 
ing (§ 8) or utterance (§ 10), is given when a syllable 
begins softly and gradually increases in force till it ends 
with its loudest sound, or an explosion. It is used whenever 
one's main wish is to impress his thoughts on others. It 
gives utterance, in its weakest form, to the whine or complaint 



78 orator's manual. 

of iwQve peevishness demanding consideration; when stronger, 
to ^'pushing earnestness, persistency or determination; in its 
strongest form, to a desire to cause others to feel one's own 
astonishment, scorn or horror. 
Pure medium pitch. 

1. Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather 
like this! My gown and bonnet will be spoiled. Needn't 
I wear 'em then? Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. 
No, sir! I'm not going out a dowdy to please you or any- 
body else. Gracious knows! it isn't often that I step over 
the threshold. 

Slightly aspirated orotund. 

2. I did send to you 

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; 

For I can raise no money by vile means: 

By heaven! I had rather coin my heart, 

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 

From the hard hands of peasants their vile tr4sh 

By any indirection. I did send 

To you for gold to pay my legions. 

Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? 

Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? 

Orotund. 

3. Blaze, with your serried columns! 

I will not bend the knee ! 
The shackles ne'er again shall bind 

The arm which now is free. 
I've mailed it with the thunder. 

When the tempest muttered low; 
And where it falls, ye well may dread 

The lightning of its blow! 

Idem. 

4. Sir, we are nOt weak if we make a proper use of 
those means which the God of nature hath placed in our 
pOwer. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause 
of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, 
are invincible by any force which our enemy can send 
against us. 

Idem. 

5. I am astonished, sh6cked, to hear such principles con- 
fessed, — to hear them avowed in this House, or even in 



FORCE. 79 

this country; — principles equall}' unconstitlitional, inhU' 
man, and unchristian! 

Strongly aspirated orotund and guttural. 

6. , Turning out 

The Roman from his birthright; and for what? 
To fling your offices to every slave — 
Vipers that creep where man disdains to climb; 
And having wound their loathsome track to the top 
Of this huge mouldering monument of Rome, 
Hang hissing at the nobler man below. 

m^See, also, §§ 311-219. 

a. Witliout tprminal stress, there can be no representation of 
childisli weakness or obstinacy, or of manly strength or res- 
olution; used too exclusively, or excessively, it causes dehvery to be 
characterized by an appearance of willfulness, depriving it of the 
qualities of persuasion that appeal to the sympathies. 

102. Median Stress <>, used generally with effu- 
sive but sometimes with expulsive breathing (§ 8) or ut- 
terance (§ 10), is given when a syllable is loudest in the 
middle of its utterance and begins and ends softly. It is 
used whenever one's desire to impress a thought on others 
is matched by a desire to express it on his own account. 
That which begins,- therefore, to be a Terminal Stress < 
does not end with a loud sound or explosion, but gradually 
subsides as it dies away in the form appropriate for Initial 
Stress >. For this reason the Terminal Stress used in 
most oratory passes into Median Stress in passages char- 
acterized by strong feeling in view of the eloquence of the 
thought (see §§ 215, 219); and the latter stress is especially 
appropriate in uttering the language of poetrij and devotion 
{see §§ 92-95). In its effusive form it may indicate either 
exaltation or dejection in consideration of the beautiful, sub- 
lime or pathetic; in its stronger, mainly expulsive form, 
admiration, adoration, enthusiasm, self-confident command 
commendation or disapprobation. 

Pure medium pitch. 

1. Listen closer. When you have done 

With woods and cornfields and grazing herds, 
A Udy, the loveliest ever the sun 
Looked down upon, you must paint for me; 
Oh, if I only could make you see 



80 orator's manual. 

The clear blue eyes, the tender smile, 
The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace, 
The woman's soul and the angel's face, 

That are beaming on me all the while! 

Orotund, high. 

2. joy to the people, and joy to the throne, 
Come to us, love us, and make us your 6wn: 
For Saxon or Dane or Norman we. 
Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be. 

We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee, 

Alexandra! 

Idem, moderately high. 

3. Oh! sing unto the Lord a new song; for he hath done 
marvellous things: his right hand and his holy arm hath 
gotten him the victory. Make a joyful noise unto the 
Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejOice, and 
sing praise. Sing unto the Lord with the harp; with the 
harp, and the voice of a psalm. 

Idem, low. 

4. Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth; 
and the heavens are the work of thy hands. They shall 
perish, but thOu shalt endure; yea, all of them shall wax 
old like a garment; as a vesture shalt thou change them, 
and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and 
thy years shall have no end. 

Idem, moderately high. 

5. Oh divine, oh delightful legacy of a spotless reputa- 
tion! Can there be conceived a more atrocious injury than 
to filch from its possessor this inestimable benefit; to rob 
society of its charm, and solitude of its solace; not only to 
outlaw life, but to attaint death, converting the very grave, 
the refuge of the sufferer, into the gate of infamy and of 
vshame ? 

Sm^ See, also, § 92: c; §§ 95, 108, 113, 218, 219, 222-225. 

a. This stress corresponds to the swell in music, and character- 
izes successive words as well as sing-le ones, giving to whole passages 
a gliding and graceful as distinguished from an abrupt and harsh 
effect. It is especially adapted for an address to the sympathies, 
but used too exclusively it may lead to what is termed moutliing'. 
The monotonous chanting effect, sometimes called the pious tone, 
results largely from a habit of using a long loud median in casea 



FORCE. 81 

where terminal stress would be appropriate. In emphatic passages 
one should be careful to stop the sound when at its loudest. 

103. Compound Stress, beginning like Initial and 
ending like" Terminal >< : and sometimes, in passages 
characterized by Terminal Stress, both beginning and end- 
ing like Terminal < < ; and in each form beginning lond 
and ending loud, with its softest part in the middle, is 
used in its first form, X, for a combination of the ideas 
conveyed by Initial and Terminal Stress; i. e. when one 
tvishes both to express and to impress his thoughts, also for 
vehement determination, or demonstrative astonislmient or 
horror. In both of its forms it is used wherever there 
are long emphatic, especially circumflex, slides, both the 
beginning and the end of which it seems important to 
bring out with distinctness; therefore, usually upon words 
expressing compaiHsons and contrasts, especially on those 
expressing irony, sarcasm and contemptuous mockenj. 

In the following extracts the Compound Stress falls on the words 
in italics. 

Slightly aspirated orotund, sustained force. 

1. Are you really prepared to determine, but not to 
hear, the mighty cause upon which hang a nation's hopes 
and fears ? You are ? Then hetvdre of your decision ! 
By all you hold most dear, — by all the ties that bind every 
one of us to our common order and our common c6untry, 
I solemnly adjure you, — I tvarn you, — I imjjldt^e you, — yea, 
on my bended knees I supplicate you, — reject ndt this hill! 

Idem. 

2. You bldcks, you stones, you u'drse than senseless things ! 
you hard hearts! you cricel men of Rome! 

Know you not Pompey? many a time and 6ft 
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, 
To t6wers and windows, yea to chimney-tops. 
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
The livelong day with patient expectation. 
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; 
And do you noiv put on your best attire? 
And do you noiv cull out a holiday? 
And do you now strew flowers in his way 
That comes to triumph over Pompey's blood? 
Begone 



82 orator's manual. 

Pure, high, sustained force, varied melody. 

3. " The birds can fly, an' wh}^ can't I ? 
Must we give in^' saj^s he with a grin, 

" That the hlilebird an' plieebe are smarter'n efe'be?" 
Pure, high, varied melody. 

4. The meaning of Meek she never knew, 

But imagined the phrase had something to do 
With " Moses,'' a peddling German Jew, 
Who, like all hawkers, the country through 

Was a person of no position: 
And it seemed to her exceedingly plctin, 
If the word was really known to pertain 
To a vulgar German, it wasn't germane, 

To a lady of high condition! 

Idem. 

5. Fal. I call thee coward ! I'll see thee hanged ere I 
call thee coward ; but I would give a thousand pound I 
could rmi as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in 
the shoulders; you care not who saes your back. Call you 
that backing of your friends ? A plague upon such backing ! 

Medium pitch, orotund and guttural. 

6. What's banished, but set free 

From daily contact of the things I loathe? 
" Tried and convicted traitor I " — wh6 says this? 
Who'll _prdfe it, at his peril, on my head? 
Banished? 1 thank j on for' t\ It breaks my c/it^m/ 
I held some slack allegiance till this hour, — 
But now my sword's m}^ own. 
m° See, also, §§ 211, 212, 213. 

a. This stress is especially eflFective on a long shde made on a 
single syllable that ends a word; e. g. I suppUcate you, I implare 
you. 

The syllables that follow the inflection on supplicate prevent our 
using the Compound Stress on that (see% 45: b, c). It will be 
noticed, also, that the same principle sometimes prevents our using 
Compound Stress even where we have the circumflex (§ 45 : c). 

b. Used excessively. Compound Stress makes deHvery seem 
sometimes snappisli, and sometimes overdone, in the matter of 
emphasis. 

104. Thorough Stress, a strong stress throughout 
the syllable, is sometimes described as a combination of 
Initial, Median and Terminal XX, but, as given by a flexible 



I 



FORCE. 83 

cultivated voice, it perhaps might better be described as 
a very strong form of Median Stress. In either case, it 
would begin and end loud, and indicate a combination of 
the ideas conveyed by Initial, Median and Terminal; i. e. 
positiveness, push a.iQ.dfeelmg, all together; therefore, raptur- 
ous t?'iumph, vehement appeal, lofty cotmnand, indignant 
disdain or soul-stirring agomj. 

Moderately high aspirated orotund. 

1. The world recedes; it disappears! 
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring: 
Lend, lend your ivlngs! I mount! I fiy! 
grave! ivhere is thy victory? 

death! tvhere is thy sting? 

High orotund, explosive sustained force. 

2. Cheer answer cheer, and bear the cheer ab6ut. 
Hurrah, hurrah, for the fiery fort is Ours! 

"Victory, victory, victory!" 

Idem. 

3. Forward, through blood and toil and cloud and fire ! 
Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of steel. 
The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire! 

They shake; like broken waves their squares retire. 
On them, hussars! Now give them rein and heel! 
Idem. 

4. Some to the common pulpits! and cry out 
" Liberty, freedom and enfranchisement! " 

Low aspirated pectoral. 

5. Poison be their drink; 

Gall, ivorse than gall, the daintiest meat they t^ste; 
Their siveetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ; 
Their stveefest ptrospects, miirderi^ig basilisks; 
Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings, 
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss. 
And boding screech-owls make the C07icert full 
With the foul terrors of dark-seated Hell. 

As a rule, this stress needs to be more avoided, than cultivated. 
Except when used with discrimination, its inflexibility, devoid of 
the graceful and delicate tones characterizing other forms of stress, 
renders it a disagreeable mannerism, suggesting, when employed on 
the stage, rudeness and vulgarity. 



84 orator's manual. 

105. Tremulous Stress (so called) is hardly a form 
of stress, but a trembling movement of the voice produced 
in the throat, and characterizing a whole passage rather 
than the emphatic words in the passage. It indicates ex- 
haustion, whether it come from age, sickness, iceakness, or 
an excess of emotion, either of joy or of grief. 

Pure, medium pitch. 

1. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, 

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your d6or. 

Pure, medium pitch, moderate time. 

2. If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother 

dear, 
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year. 
It is the last New Year that I shall ever see. 
Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think 

no more of me. 

Oratund, medium pitch. 

3. Have mercy upon me, God, according to thy loving- 
kindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mer- 
cies, blot out my transgressions! Wash me thoroughly 
from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I 
acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before 
me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this 
evil in thy sight. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out 
all mine iniquities! 

High, pure, aspirated, fast. 

4. You must wake and call me early, call me early, 

mother dear; 

To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad 
NewYear; 

Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, mer- 
riest day; 

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be 
Queen o' the May. 

Orotund, rather low. 

5. Cold is thy br6w, my son! and I am chill, as to my 
b6som I have tried to press thee ! How was I wont to f^el 
my pulses thrill like a rich harpstring, yearning to caress 
thee, and h^ar thy sweet ''My father!'" from those dumb 
and cold lips, Absalom ! 

^^^See, also, §§ 91, 328. 



FORCE. 85 

A discriminating' use of the tremor imparts to delivery a rap- 
turous or pathetic effect that nothing else can give; used in excess, 
it is enfeebling. 

Let tiie student now read over the passages given as illustra- 
tions in §§ 107-120, 123-137, 140-145, and § 149, and determine 
for himself the kind of stress that should be used with each 
quotation. 

Ge^teral Force. 

106. By this is meant the force that characterizes series of words 
in phrases or sentences, rather than single words or syllables. It 
may be divided, according to the Ji^ijul of mental energy (§ 32) that 
it expresses, into abrupt and smooth force; according to the degree 
of this energy, into loud and soft ioice; or according to the nature 
of the force itself, as influenced by the action of the vocalizing or- 
gans, into sustained, natural and suppressed; as influenced by 
the action of the lungs, into explosive, expulsive and effusive 
(§ 8). Besides this, it is further modified by the kind of stress used 
with individual words, — all which facts are sufficient to show that 
the character of General Force is somewhat complicated. But a 
little attention given to the following explanations will reveal to the 
student that the right use of all these different varieties of force 
depends on the application of a few general principles, which it is 
not difficult to understand. Let him first learn when to use loud or 
soft, abrupt or smooth force; then all that follows will show him 
how to use these. 

107. Abrupt Force is used when there is an excess of 
energy, which seems to have a constant tendency, as it were, 
to burst through the form. If this excess come from a great 
degree of excitement, or of irritation, as in rage, horror, 
detestation, etc., we have 

a. Loud Abrupt Force, usually on a loiv key with orotund, 
aspirate or guttural quality. 

Practice the following, and all the examples in § 149, changing the force as in- 
dicated by the italics. Keep a low key, expelling tones from the abdomen (§ 2). 

Dost thou come here to WHiN"E? 

To OUTFACE me by leaping in her gr^ve? 

Be buried quick with her, and so will I. 
And if thou prate of mouxtai:n"S, — let them throw 

MiLLION"S OF ACRES On US, TILL OUR GROU^^D 
SlKGEIi^G HIS PATE, AGAII^ST THE BURNING ZONE, 

MAKE OSSA LIKE A WlRT. Nay, an' thou'lt mouth, 
I'll RAiiTT as well as thou. 

{See, also, exercises in § 14; also §§ 110, 114.) 



86 orator's manual. 

If the excess of energy comes from a slight degree of excitation, 
or from mere exuberance of spirit, as in laughing mirth, raillery, 
etc., we have 

b. Soft Abrupt Force, uttered usually with a high, discrete 
varied melody (§ 92 : a) and pure quality. 

Now o'er a chair he gets a fall; now floundering for- 
wards with a jerk, he bobs his nose against the wall; and 
now encouraged by a subtle fancy that they're near the 
door, he jumps behind it to explore, and breaks his shins 
against the scuttle; crying, at each disaster — "Drat it! 
Hang it! 'od rabbit it! " and " Rat it! " 

108. Smooth Force is used when there is merely what 
might be termed an expansion of energy. If this is accom- 
panied by a great degree of excitation or enthusiasm, as in 
referring to what is suhlime, grand, powerful^ etc., we have 

a. Loud Smootli Force. [See, also, §§ 111, 215, 218.) 

If there were no religion; if that vast sphere, out of 
which grow all the supereminent truths of the Bible, was a 
mere emptiness and void; yet, methinks, the very idea of 
Fatherland, the exceeding preciousness of the laws and lib- 
erties of a great people, would enkindle such a high and 
noble enthusiasm, that all baser feelings would be con- 
sumed ! 

If there is only a slight degree of excitation and exhilaration, 
as in referring to what is heautiful, lovely, tendey^ etc., [see, also, 
§§ 109, 112, 116, 119), we have 

b. Soft Smootli Force. 

If I were now to die, 
'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear 
My soul hath her content so absolute. 
That not another comfort like to this 
Succeeds in unknown fate. 
{See, also, exercises in § 14: b.) 

Now let us consider how to produce these different kinds and 
degrees of Force: first, as determined by the modes of vocalizing. 

109. Sustained Force. When one S]^eaks forcibly on 
a high key, appropriate for I/f/Jtt, gay, lirc/y or loicontrolled 
states of mind, there is a tendency to run the tones together, 
as in singing, i. e. to sustain them. Although natural to a 
high key, the same kind of force can be used, especially after 



FORCE. 87 

the voice has been cultivated, on a comparatively low key. 
Sustained force may be given in three different forms, de- 
termined by the different modes of breathing. In prac- 
ticing it, sustain successive unemphatic tones on the same 
key. (§80.) 

110. Explosive Form (interchanging in places with expulsive). 
This unites the effects of loud abrupt and loud smooth force; each 
tone, after the abrupt beginning, being prolonged, as in smooth 
force. In it we have usually initial, terminal, or comi^ound stress, a 
high key and orotund quality. It is used for uncontrolled moods, in 
which the speaker, owing to the grandeur or importance of his 
thought, is carried atvay by excessive joy, rage or fear. Its most 
distinctive form is the tone of shouting. 

1. Victory! victory! Their columns give way! press 
them while they waver, and the day is ours ! 

2. Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath tilrned the 

chance of war ! 
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and King Henry of Na- 
varre ! 

3. Come, brands, ho! fire-brands! — To Brutus'! to Cas- 
siusM — burn all! Some to Decius' house, and some to Cas- 
ca's ; some to Ligarius' — away ! 

4. "0, spare my child, my Joy, my pride! 
0, give me back my child!" she cried: 

" My child! my child! " with sobs and tears, 
She shrieked upon his callous ears. 

5. "Come back, come back, Horatius!" 

Loud cried the Fathers all. 
"Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! 
Back, ere the ruin fall!" 

[See, also, § 104: 2, 3, 4; § 135: 1, 2; § 145: h.) 

111. Expulsive Form (interchanging with explosive). This is 
loud smooth force, with predominating terminal stress, though it can 
be used with all kinds of stress, and a comparatively high key. It is 
sometimes called Declamatory Force, and is appropriate for moods 
that are uncontrolled, in the sense that the speaker seems to be 
carried away by his impetuosity or conception of the importance, 
grandeur, etc., of his theme. It is very effective in Oratory, especi- 
ally when accompanied by full orotund, volume; e. g. 



88 orator's manual. 

Predominating terminal stress. 

1. All, all his victories should have rushed and crowded 
back upon his memory; Vimiera, Badajos, Salamanca, Al- 
buera, Toulouse, and, last of all, the greatest, — tell me, — 
for you were there, — I appeal to the gallant soldier before 
me, who bears, I know, a generous heart in an intrepid 
breast, — tell me, for you must needs remember, on that 
day, when the destinies of mankind were trembling in the 
balance, while death fell in showers upon them; when the 
artillery of France, levelled with the precision of the most 
deadly science, played upon them ; when her legions, incited 
by the v6ice, inspired by the example of their mighty leader, 
rushed again and again to the contest; — tell me if, for an 
instant, when to hesitate for an instant was to be lost, the 
"aliens" blanched? 

Median stress. 

2. Up with my banner on the wall, — 

The banquet board prepare; 

Throw wide the portals of my hall, 

And bring my armor there ! 

Terminal stress. 

3. Go home, if you dare, — go home, if you can, to your 
constituents, and tell them that you voted it down! Meet, 
if you dare, the appalling countenances of those who sent 
you here, and tell them that you shrank from the declara- 
tion of your own sentiments — that, j^ou cannot tell how, 
but that some unknown dread, some indescribable appre- 
hension, some indefinable danger, afiVighted you — that the 
spectres of cimeters, and crowns, and crescents gleamed 
before you, and alarmed you; and that you suppressed all 
the nOble feelings prompted by religion, by liberty, by 
national independence, and by humanity! 

{See, also, §§ 211-214, 218, 219, especially § 215.) 

112. Effusive Form (interchang'ing with expulsive). This is 
soft smooth force. In it we have predominating median stress, a 
high or moderately high key, greatly varied concrete (§ 87) melody, 
and pure, though sometimes orotund quality. It is used for gai/y 
light, lively, uncontrolled moods, that are gently agitated by experi- 
ences pleasurable or beautiful, as in exuberant humor, playful irony, 
hanter, delight, exultation. 



FORCE. 89 

1. Oh, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you. 
She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes 

In shape no bigger than an agate stone 
On the fore-finger of an alderman. 
Drawn with a team of little atomies 
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep. 

2. You talk of pride! Oh! that you could turn your 
eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an 
interior survey of your good selves ! 

3. Away, away! for the stars are forth, 

And on the pure snows of the valley. 
In a giddy trance, the moonbeams dance — 
Come, let us our comrades rally! 

4. Hear the sledges with the bells, silver bells — 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, in the icy air of night! 
While the stars that oversprinkle all the heavens, seem 

to twinkle 
With a cr3^stalline delight — 
Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of runic rhyme. 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

(See, also, § 224; § 133: 1, 2,3.) 

113. Natural Force seems to be the most appropriate 
term by which to designate that large number of passages 
in which the tones, strictly speaking, are neither Sustained 
nor Suppressed, but in a condition between the two. Natural 
Force may also be given in three different forms. 

114. Explosive Form (interchang-ing with expulsive). This is 
loud abrupt, commonly called vehement force (§§ 210-215). In it 
we have predominating initial, terminal and compound stress, and 
a comparatively'Zow' key, with orotund, aspirate and guttural quahty. 
It passes easily and often into sustained force (example 2), when the 
indignation which it chiefly expresses is overbalanced by a considera- 
tion of the importance or grandeur of the subject. For additional 
illustrations of its use see §§ 311-315. 

4* 



90 orator's manual. 

1. I do not rise to waste the night in words; 
Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my trade; 
But here I stand for right, — let him show proofs, — 
For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand 
To take their share with me. A}^ cluster there! 
Cling to your master, judges, Romans, slaves! 
His charge is false; I dare him to his proofs. 
In the following, natural force becomes sustained: 
2. These abominable principles, and this more abomi- 
nable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indigna- 
tion. I call upon that right reverend and this most learned 
Bench to vindicate the religion of their God, — to defend 
and supp6rt the jtistice of their country. I call upon the 
bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn, 
upon the judges to interpose the plirity of their ermine, to 
save us from this pollution. 

115, Expulsive Form (interchanging with explosive). This 
is loud smooth, ordinarily called earnest, force (classified as ani- 
mated, §§ 216-219). In it we have predominating terminal, with 
some initial and median stress, a medium key, and ^;Mre or m'otiind 
quality. It passes often and easily into sustained force, when from 
merely serious and strong sentiments it passes to grand ones. For 
illustrations of its use see §§ 216-219, and poetry marked expulsive 
in §§ 221-225. 

You can mould opinion, you can create political power; 
you cannot think a good thought on this subject and com- 
municate it to your neighbor, you cannot make these points 
topics of discussion in your social circles and more general 
meetings, without affecting, sensibly and speedil}^ the course 
which the government of your country will pursue. 

116, Effusive Form. This is soft smooth, ordinarily called 
moderate, force. It is used with all kinds of stress, a medium key, 
and pure quality, whenever there is no appearance of an effort to 
supjyress the utterance. It characterizes ordinary, unimpassioned 
statements or descriptions (see § 226). 

Now comes the autumn of life — the season of the " sere 
and yellow leaf." The suppleness and mobility of the 
limbs diminish, the senses are less acute, and the impres- 
sions of external objects are less remarked. The fibres of 
the body grow more rigid; the emotions of the mind are 



FORCE. 91 

more calm and uniform ; the eye loses its lustrous keenness 
of exf)ression. 

117. Suppressed or Subdued Force. When one 
is in a serious, grave, dignified, self-determined mood, his 
utterances, — however forcible, and because they must be, in 
these cases, on a low key, — will be more or less suppressed, 
rather than sustained. We have these different forms: 

118. Explosive Form (interchanging" with expulsive). This 
is loud abrupt force, on a low key, with initicd, terminal or com- 
pound stress, and often passes from orotund into aspirate, guttural 
or 2)ectoral quality. It gives expression to moods greatly excited by 
serious and grave considerations, in which the tendency to expres- 
sion is forcihli/ suppressed, as in amazement, impatience, indigna- 
tion, revenge, fear, horror, despair. 

1. Ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? 

2. If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. 
He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million; 
laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my na- 
tion, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my 
enemies. And what's his reason? 

3. How ill this taper burns! Ha, who comes here? 
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 

That shapes this monstrous apparition. 

It c6mes upon me — Art thou anything? 

Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, 

That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare? 

Speak to me, what thou art. 

4. [While thr6ng the citizens with terror dlimb, 
Or whisper with white lips] " The fde! — 

They come, they come! " 

[See, also, §§ 128, 129, and examples there referred to; also, 
§145: a.) 

119. Expulsive Form (interchanging with effusive). This is 
not very loud smooth force, with predominating terminal or me- 
dian stress, on a medium or loiv key, with pure or orotund quality. 
It is for moods not carried away by a subject, but rather suppre 
and subdued by the gravity and dignity of it. 



92 orator's manual. 

1. Where Christ brings his cross he brings his presence, 
and where he is none are desolate, and there is no room 
for despair. At the darkest you have felt a hand through 
the dark, closer perhaps and tenderer than any touch 
dreamt of at noon. As he knows his own, so he knows how 
to comfort them, — using sometimes the very grief itself, 
and straining it to the sweetness of a faith unattainable to 
those ignorant of any grief. 

2. There was no trace by which the name of the ship 
could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently drifted 
about for many months; clusters of shell-fish had fastened 
about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. But 
where, thought I, is the crew? Their struggle has long 
been over; — they have gone down amidst the roar of the 
tempest; — their bones lie whitening in the caverns of the 
deep. Silence, — oblivion, — like the waves, have closed 6ver 
them; and no one can tell the story of their end. 

{See, also, § 220.) 

120. Effusive Form (interchanging with expulsive). This is 
soft smooth force, with predominating median stress, on a medium 
or loiv key, with pure, sometimes orotund, quality. It gives ex- 
pression to sentiments of heauti/, tenderness, love, etc., when the 
moods are the opposite of lively or uncontrolled in the sense that the 
feeling or tendency to express them is gently subdued or suppressed, 
as in submissive supjiUcation, contrition, commiseration, or the pres- 
ence of sorrow, slumber, sickness, death. 

1. 0, my lord. 

Must I, then, leave you? must I needs foreg6 
So g6od, so noble, and so true a master? 
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. 

2. Thou turnest man to destruction; and sA,yest, " Re- 
ttirn, ye children of men." For a thousand years in thy 
sight are but as j^esterday when it is past, and as a watch 
in the night. 

3. She sleeps: her breathings are not heard 

In palace chambers far apait. 
The fragrant tresses are not stirred 
That lie upon her charmed h^art. 



VOLUME. 93 

She sleeps: on either hand upswells 

The gold-fringed pillow, lightly prest: 

She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells 
A perfect form in perfect rest. 

4. Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead! 

Sit and watch by her side an hour. 
That is her book-shelf. — this her bed; 

She plucked that piece of geranium flower 
Beginning to die, too, in the glass. 
{See, also, §§ 226, 228.) 

VOLUME. 

121. This is determined by the relative amount of 
breath, energy and resonance that the voice derives from 
the way in which the various organs of the lungs, throat 
and mouth are used in forming it. 

a. There are all possible degrees of volume. No separate term 
is in use to apply to a slight change in it; but if the change is great 
it necessitates a difference net only in degree but in kind, in what is 
termed Quality. Pure quality, for instance, may be uttered with a 
certain degree of full volume and still remain pure; but if an at- 
tempt be made to change it still further in the same direction it be- 
comes orotund. The principle regulating slight changes in volume, 
such as are usually, though not exclusively, made when emphasizing 
individual words or phrases, rather than whole passages,— the 
changes in the latter almost always necessitating changes also in 
quality, — is as follows: 

b. Volume, which, as we have found (§ 32), is repre- 
sentative of the feelings^ is tllin or fine in utterances that 
are anticipative, indecisive, subordinate, insignificant, nega- 
tive, etc., when these are expressive of moods that are 
light, gay, lively or uncontrolled; and it is full in utter- 
ances that are final, decisive, self-important, self -interesting, 
affirmative, positive, etc., when these are expressive of 
moods that are serious, grave, dignified or self-determined. 

For illustration see § 140: e. 



94 orator's manual. 

This, for instance, necessitates thin volume. 

"Farewell! farewell!" I faintly cried; 
" My breeches, — oh, my breeches!" 

And this fuU. 

Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding he rode 
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad. 

Anything further on this subject will be sufficiently unfolded 
while considering 

Quality. 

122. By this is meant the kind of voice or tone that one 
uses; and this, as has been said, depends on the elements 
that enter into it and constitute its volume (§ 121). 

The following' qualities need to be understood: the Aspirate, 
Guttural and Pectoral, which, as they are used mainly to modify 
and supplement other tones, it is convenient to consider first; the 
Pure and Orotund, which are the most ordinary and important 
qualities; and the Nasal and Oral, which need to be mentioned 
mainly that they may be avoided. Recalling (§ 32) that the differ- 
ent qualities of voice represent different kinds of emotions, we turn 
first to the 

123. Aspirate. This is the thinnest quality, — a tone 
almost flooded with breath. Wherever heard, it suggests 
that behind the tone there is an excess of motion, or emo- 
tion, that is constantly straining through and preventing 
complete vocalization. In other words, it indicates intensity 
of feeling. Besides this, in the degree in which its qual- 
ity approaches that of the ordinary whisper, it suggests 
surprise^ caution^ apprehension or alarm, in view of external 
circumstances. 

a. The Effusive Whisper or Aspirate indicates a gentle 
degree of intensity suhdmd, as in the presence of something to 
cause caution or awe; e, g. 

L6ave me! thy footstep with its lightest s6und, 
The very shadow of thy waving hair, 

Wakes in my soul a feeling too profound. 

Too strOng for aught that lives and dies to bdar: 
Oh, bid the conflict cease! 



VOLUME. 95 

Gentle knave, good night! 
I will not do tliee so much wrong to wake thee. 
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument: 
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night! 

b. The Expulsive Whisper or Aspirate indicates a great 
degree of Intensitij or earnestness, as in the presence 0/ something to 
cause apprehension ; e. g. 

1. All's hushed as midnight, yet! 
No noise! and enter. 

2. One disorderly noise or motion may leave us at the 
mercy of their advanced guard. Let every man keep the 
strictest silence, under pain of instant death ! 

c. The Explosive Whisper or Aspirate indicates the greatest 
degree of intensity, or vehement earnestness, as m the 'presence of 
something to alarm; e.g. 

1. Hark! I hear the bugles of the enemy! They are on 
their march along the bank of the river. We must retreat 
instantly, or be cut off from our boats. I see the head of 
their column already rising over the height. Our only 
safety is in the screen of this hedge. Keep close to it; be 
silent; and stdop as you run. For the boats! Fdrward! 

2. Lady M. My hands are of your color; but I shame 
To wear a heart so white. — {Knock.) I hear a 

knocking 
At the south entry: — retire we to our chamber: 
A little water clears us of this deed: 
How easy is it then? Your constancy 
Hath left you unattended. — {Knocking.) Hark, more 

knocking. 

124. The Aspirate may he used tvith any tone or 
quality of the voice, and, when thus used, intensifies the 
feeling that the tone expresses. In the degree in which the 
aspiration is decided and forcible, it conveys the impression 
of apprehension or alarm. 

a. When used habitually, however, it is a fault, and needs to be 
corrected by learning how to draw and hold more air in the lungs, 
and to use economy in vocaHzing it. {See §§ 8-10.) 



96 orator's manual. 

b. Practicing the whisper (§ 8) tends to develop the capacity 
and strength of the respiratory and articulating- organs. 

^^W In practicing the whisper, do not allow yourself to feel that 
there is contraction in the throat. Keep the throat open; make the 
waist-muscles do the work. Never practice after feeling giddy, 

125. Guttural. This is a real voice, so modified by 
the drawing back of the tongue, and the contraction of the 
throat above the larynx, as to have an impure, harsh effect. 
It is acquired by practicing the consonants g, j, ^% r, t, and 
d; and, in any given passage, is produced largely by articu- 
lating these consonants with great distinctness. It is the 
natural expression for hostility; hence for malice, hatred, 
revenge, etc. 

1. I would that now 

I could forget the monk who stands before me ; 
For he is like the accursed and crafty snake ! 
Hence ! from my sight ! — Thou Satan, get behind me ! 
G6 from my sight ! — I hate and I despise thee ! 

2. A murderer, and a villain: 
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe 
Of your precedent lord: — a vice of king's: 

A cutiDurse of the empire and the rule ; 
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
And put it in his pocket! 

{See §§ 311-225: 7, 12, 14, 15; § 100: 5, 6; § 118: 2; § 145: a; 
§137.) 

126. The Aspirate used ivith the gtitturcd increases the feel- 
ing, especially apjjrehension connected with the sensation of hos- 
tility; hence, it indicates profound impatience, disgust, aversion, 
derision, and contemptuous defiance. {See references under § 125 ) 

1. Oh, that the slave had forty thousand lives! 
My great revenge had stomach for them all! 

2. Thou stand'st at length before me undisguised — 
Of all earth's groveling crew the most acctirsed. 
Thou worm! thou viper! to thy native earth 
Rettirn! Away! Thou art too bdse for man 
To tre^d upon ! Thou sctim ! thou reptile ! 



VOLUME. 97 

3. Aufidius. Name not the god, 
Thou boy of tears. 
Coriolanus. Measureless liar! thou hast made my 

heart 
Too great for what contains it. 
Boy! Cut me to pieces, Volscians: men and 14ds, 
Stain all your edges on me. Boy! — 
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there 
That, like an eagle in a dovecot, I 
Fluttered your Volscians in Corioli: 
Aldne I did it.— Boy! 

127. The Guttural, like the aspirate, may accom- 
pany other qualities (though seldom the pure), and when 
thus used, intensifies the hostility that they express, § 137. 

When used habitually, the exercises (§§ 8-11) will enable one to 
overcome the habit. 

128. Pectoral. This is a hollow murmur from the 
chest, in which the lower part of the throat seems expanded. 
it furnishes the natural expression for sensations of awe and 
horror, 

1. Av^unt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee ! 
Thy b6nes are marrowless, thy blood is c61d: 

Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
Which thou dost glare with! 

H^nce, horrible shadow! 
Unreal mockery, h^nce! 

2. Such an act 
As blurs the grace and blush of modesty; 
Calls virtue, hypocrite ; and takes off the rose 
From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows 
As false as dicers' oaths: 0, such a deed 

As from the body of contraction plucks 
The very soul; and sweet religion makes 
A rhapsody of words. 

(See, also, § 94: 2, 3, 4; § 104: 5; § 118: 3; § 144: 3, 4.) 

129. The Aspirate used with the pectoral increases the feel- 
ing, especially apprehension, connected with this sensation of awe or 

5 



98 orator's manual. 

horror; hence, it indicates astoundment, ahhorrence, despair, and 
despairing terror. 

1. What may this mean, 

That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, 
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon. 
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature 
So horridly to shake our disposition 
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 

2. Is it come to this? Shall an inferior magistrate, a 
governor, who holds his whole power of the Roman people, 
in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, 
torture with fire and red-hot plates of Iron, and at last put 
to the infamous death of the cross, a Roman citizen ? 

3. Which way I fly is Hell, — myself am Hell; 
And in the lowest deep, a lower deep. 
Still threatening to devour me, opens wide. 
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven! 

4. Oh! horror! horror! horror! — Tongue nor heaH 
Cannot conceive, nor name thee ! . . . 

Conftision now hath made me his masterpiece! 
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
The Lord's anointed Temple, and stole thence 
The life of the building. . . . 

Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight 
With a new Gorgon ! 

130. When the pectoral tone is iised habitually it is owing 
to a feeble action of the abdominal muscles, an inadequate supply of 
air in the lungs, and a constant use of too low a pitch. The exercises 
(§§ 8-10), together with acquiring a hahxt of using the middle notes 
of the voice, will overcome the fault, unless it result from a state of 
health that demands the services of a physician. 

131. Pure. This quality results when the breathing, 
sounding and articulating organs are used with a gentle or 
moderate degree of force in the way indicated in §§ 8-12. 

a. The singing of the scale (§ 13), ascended and descended 
slowly, with a median stress (§ 102) on each note, will help especially 
to cultivate this quality. When all the vowels come to have a 
quality similar to that of oo, as ordinarily given with soft force, they 
will be pure. 



VOLUME. 99 

132. Pure tone is the natural expression for gently 
agitated snoods, whether light and gay, as in raillery, banter^ 
admiration, exultation, or serious and grave, as in suppUca^ 
tion and contritioti, or in the presence of sorrow, sickness^ 
death, or of anything to genthj subdue or suppress the feel- 
ings. {See §§ 108: b; §§ 112, 116, 120: 3, 4.) 

Very higli, varied melody. 

1. Lion. You, ladies, you whose gentle hearts do feai 
The smallest monstrous mSuse that creeps on floor. 
May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, 
When lion rough in wildest rage doth r6ar. 

Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am 
No lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; 
For if I should as lion come in strife 
Into this place, 'twere pity of my life. 

Idem, high. 

2. Alas ! now, pray you, 
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had 
Burned tip those logs, that you are enjoined to pile! 
Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 
'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father 

Is hard at study, — pray now, rest yourself: 
He's safe for these three hours. 

Medium pitch. 

3. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful.- 
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile. 

And touch thy instrument a strain or two? 
I trouble thee too much ; but thou art willing. 
I should not urge thy duty past thy might, 
I know young bl6ods lack for a time of rest. 
I will not hold thee long: if I do live, 
I will be good to thee. 

Idem. 

4. Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! 
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings. 

Still quiring to the young- eyed cherubim. 



100 orator's ma:n"ual. 

Such harmony is in immdrtal s6uls: 
But while this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot he^r it. 

{See, also, %100: 1, 2, 3; §101: 1; §102: 1; §103: 3,4,5; §105: 1, 
2, 4; some selections in § 217; and many marked P in §§ 222-225.) 

133, The Aspirate, used with the pure tone, intensifies the 
feeling in the above sentiments, causing them to express ecstasy, 
admiration, sympathy, tenderness, devotion, commiseration. 

Very high, varied melody. 

1. Miranda. w6nder! 

How many goodly creatures are there here ! 
H6w beauteous mankind is! brave new w6rld, 
That has such people in it! 

Idem, high. 

2. The red rose cries, " She is near, she is near"; 

And the white rose weeps, " She is late"; 
The larkspur listens, " I hear, I hear"; 
And the lily whispers, " I wait." 

Idem, medium pitch. 

3. Leontes. sweet Paulina, 

Make me to think so twenty years together ; 
No settled senses of the world can m^tch 
The pleasure of that madness. 

Low. 

4. W6e, yet not 16ng ; — she lingered but to trace 

Thine image from the image in her breast. 
Once, once again to see that buried face 

But smile upon her, ere she went to rest. 
Too sad a smile ! its living light was o'er, — 
It answered hers no mdre. 



. very effective way of expressing the above sentiments is 
to hegin the words with a soft, pure tone, to use a long initial stress 
on them, and let each die away into an aspiration or a whisper. 
Read 2 and 3 (above) in this way; also § 132: 4. 

{See §§ 222-225, for examples of aspirated pure tones.) 
134. Orotund. This quality, though it may be given 
with almost every variety of force and pitch, is better 
adapted than the pure tone for the louder degrees of force, 



VOLUME. 101 

especially when these are produced upon a low hey. It is a 
pure tone to which is imparted unusual body, force and 
resonance, which cause a difference in the volume of the 
tone. 

a. This difference is produced because in it, as contrasted with 
the position of the organs in simple pure tones, the abdomen is more 
teyise, the larynx (Adam's apple in throat) lower down, the hack of 
the tongue flatter, the soft palate higher, all the vocal passages wider, 
and the breath seems to be directed toward the roof of the mouth 
instead of straight to the lips; in short, the organs of speech are in 
about the position of ivaiUng. To acquire it, practice exercises 
§§ 8-13, with the organs arranged as in wailing, especially on a low 
key; also h, d, g and J on a low key. 

b. When all the vowels come to have a quality similar to that 
of long as ordinarily given with loud force, they will have the 
orotund quahty. 

c. On account of the richness of its full tones, suggesting often 
a slight degree of hoarseness, the orotund is the last and most artistic 
result of vocal culture, and is almost always acquired rather than 
natural. 

135. The Orotund is the natural expression for deeply 
agitated moods, whether pleasurable or otherwise; i. e. of 
delight, admiration, reverence, adoration, boldness^ determina' 
tion, etc., in view of the majesty or sublimity of truth, good- 
ness, honor, etc. 

{See Explosive d^ndi Expulsive Force, §§ 108, 110, 111, all contain- 
ing examples of the Orotund; also the with all kinds of Stress, 
§§ 100-105; and of Sentiment, §§ 210-225.) 

Very high. 

1. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is deM! — 
Run hence! proclaim, cry it about the streets! 

High. 

2. Ye guards of liberty, 
I'm with you once again ! I call to you 
With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you 
To show they still are free ! 

Medium pitch. 

3. Thou glorious mirror ! where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time — 



102 orator's manual. 

Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime. 

Medium pitch. 

4. Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand 
we here Idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What 
would they have? — Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to 
be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? — Forbid 
it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may 
take ; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death ! 

Low. 

5. Pronounce, then, my lords, the sentence which the 
law directs, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust I 
shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to be able, 
with a pure heart and a perfect composure, to appear before 
a higher tribunal — a tribunal where a judge of infinite 
goodness, as well as of justice, will preside, and where, my 
lords, many, many of the judgments of this world will be 
reversed. 

136. The Aspirate, used tvith the Orotund, intensifies the 
feeling in the aVjove sentiments, causing them to express rajJture, 
enthusiasm, vehemence, indignation, rage, and, with an excess of 
the aspirate, terror. 

1. Hear, ye nations ! hear it, ye dead ! 

He rOse, He rose, — he burst the bars of death. 
The theme, the joy how then shall men sustain? 
Oh! the btirst gates ! crushed sting ! demolished thrOnel 

2. Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! 
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the h^ad: 
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blOod, 
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves. 

A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: 
Advance our standards, set upon our foes! 
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! 
Up6n them! Victory sits on our helms. 

3. Send out more hOrses. — skirr the country rdund; 
Hang those that talk of f^ar! — Give me mine ^rmor. 



VOLUME. 103 

4. Begone ! run to your hduses, fall upon your knees, 
Pray to the gOds to intermit the plagues 

That needs must light on this ingratitude ! 

5. Shall neither the cries of innocence expiring in 
agony, nor the tears of pitying spectators, nor the majesty 
of the Roman commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of 
his country, restrain the licentious and wanton cruelty of a 
monster who, in confidence of his riches, strikes at the root 
of liberty, and sets mankind at defiance? 

6. Back to thy ptinishment, 
F^lse filgitive ! and to thy speed add wings ; 
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy lingering. 

7. To arms! — they come! — the Greek, the Greek! 

137. The Guttural, used tvith the Orotund, adds hostility 
to the sentiments in § 135, causing them to express detestation^ 
defiance, vengeance. 

1. Have ye fair datighters? Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
Dishonored; and if ye dare call for justice. 

Be answered by the lash! 

2. Talk not to me 
Of odds or match ! — When Comyn died, 
Three daggers clashed within his side! 
Talk not to me of sheltering hall ! — 
The Church of God saw Comyn fall! 

On God's own altar streamed his blood-, 
While o'er my prostrate kinsman stood 
The ruthless murderer, even as now, 
With armed hand and scornful brow. 

Pectoral, in opening lines. 

3. Whence and what art thou, execrable shape! 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 

To yonder g^tes? Through them, I mean to p^ss — 
That be assiired — without leave asked of thee! 
Retire, or taste thy folly; and learn by proof. 
Hell-born! not to contend with spirits of heaven! 



104 orator's manual. 

4. But 3^011, wretch ! you could creep through the world 
unaffected by its various disgraces, its ineffable miseries, its 
constantly accumulating masses of crime and sorrow ; — 
you could live and enjoy yourself, while the noble-minded 
were betrayed, — while nameless and birthless villains trod 
on the neck of the brave and long-descended: — you 
could enjoy yourself, like a butcher's dog in the shambles, 
battening on garbage, while the slaughter of the brave 
went on around you! This enjoyment you shall not live to 
partake of: you shall die, base dog ! — and that before yon 
cloud has passed over the sun! 

For examples of alternating Orotund, Aspirate and Guttural, 
etc., see §§ 211-225: 7, 12, 14, 15, 24, 34, 88. 

Sometimes Orotund, Guttural and Aspirate are all found 
together: 

I will not go through the disgusting recital; my lips have not 
yet learnt the sycophantic language of a degraded slave ! 

Are we so low, so base, so despicable, that we may not express 
our horror, articulate our detestation, of the most brutal and atro- 
cious war that ever stained ^arth, or shocked high heaven, with the 
ferocious deeds of a brutal soldiery, set on by the clergy and fol- 
lowers of a fanatical and inimical religion, and rioting in excess of 
blood and butchery, at the mere details of which the heart sickens ? 

{See%\45'. h.) 

138. The Nasal Quality results when the nasal passages 
remain closed while one is speaking. Used in connection with any 
of the other qualities of the voice, it adds to what they otherwise 
express, a sneer of contempt or derision. When this tone is 
habitual, to overcome it one should practice exercises §§ 8-12. 

139. The Oral Quality is the high, feeble, indifferent sound, 
that suggests that there is no longer any connection between the 
lungs and the mouth. Whoever has it needs to connect the two by 
learning to breathe, sound and articulate, as indicated, §§ 8-12; and 
also to use the lower notes of the voice. These alone can give 
strength, resonance and dignity to his utterances. 

Examples Containing Different Kinds of Quality. 
The fiery eloquence of the field and the forum springs 
upon the vulgar idiom as a soldier leaps upon his horse. 
" Trust in the Lord and keep your powder dry," said Crom- 



VOLUME. 105 

well to his soldiers, on tlie eve of a battle. "Silence! you 
thirty voices ! " roars Mirabeau to a knot of opposers around 
the tribune. " I'd sell the shirt off my back to suj^port the 
war! " cries Lord Chatham; and again: " Conquer the Amer- 
icans! I might as well think of driving them before me 
with this crutch! " " I know" says Kossuth, speaking of the 
march of intelligence, " that the light has spread, and that 
even the bayonets thmk.'' " You may shake me if you please,'' 
said a little Yankee constable to a stout, burly culprit whom 
he had come to arrest and who threatened violence, "but 
recollect, if you do it, you don't shake a chap of five-feet- 
six; you've got to shake the ivhole State of Massachusetts!'' 
When a Hoosier was asked by a Yankee how much he 
weighed, — " Well," said he, " commonly I weigh about one 
hundred and eighty; but when I'm mad I tveigh a ton!" 
" Were I to die at this moment," wrote Nelson, after the 
battle of the Nile, " mo7'e frigates would be found written 
on my heart." The " Don't give up the ship! " of our mem- 
orable sea-captain stirs the heart like the sound of a trum- 
pet. Had he exhorted the men to fight to the last gasp in 
defense of their imperiled liberties, their altars, and the 
glory of America, the words might have been historic, but 
they never would have been quoted vernacularly. — Mathews^ 
'"'' Words; their Use and Ahuse^ 

He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; 
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form. 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ! 
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
Revenge or Death! — the watchword and reply; 
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm. 
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! 



106 



ORATOR S MANUAL. 



Elements of Emphasis in Combination, 
140. As determined by the special import of individual words: 



Anticipative, indecisive, m 
subordinate, insignifl- o 
cant, negative, ques- „ "l 
tionable. 2.jj: 


eran 
redo 

'3 

o 


Final, decisive, self-im- r'o 
portant, self-interest- « " 
ing, affirmative, posi- o 
tive. . 


Pauses should be made after, before or 
(where it is possible), with prolonged quan- 
tity, on all words that introduce into the 
general sense importance, information or 
peculiarity. Some of the same words should 
be emphasized also by slides ; some (with or 
without slides) by stress, and most of them 
by a change in volume. In acquiring the 
use of these elements, learn first to pause, then 
to inflect, then to use special force; last of all 
study stress and volume. 




OQ 


1 


1 

1 


3 


a. He causes | a banner | to be erected, i| the 
charge | to be sounded. || He seizes | a buckler | 
from one of his private | men, — || puts | him- 
self 1 at the head | of his broken | troops,— |i 
darts II into the thick || of the battle,— || rescues jjj 
his legions, ||| and overthrows ||| the enemy. 




i 






fcJ3 

C 


b. If he pretend to claim the charge is triie, you 

say? 
And you, do you pretend it is not triie? 
Aha, and you, — so y6u pretend it is not true! 
Why should you so pretend ? The charge is true. 


1 


73 


1 




1 


c. Why stand we here idle? What is it that 
gentlemen wish? what would they h^ve? 

I know not what course others may take, but, 
as for me, give me liberty, or give me d&ath! 




O 


a 

m 

1 

o 
if 




o 

i 

o 

1-3 


d. Median. Oh that this lovely vale were mine! 

r Tremulous. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man. 

Thorough. Gone to be married? Gone to 

swear a peace ? 
Compound. Oh, death, where is thy sting? 
[ Oh, grave, where is thy victory? 
Terminal. Oh horror! horror! horror! 

Tongue nor heart can name thee! 
Initial. You common cry of curs, whose 
breath I hate. 


o 


O 

> 


a 

1 






e. 


Roll on your ball, baby, roll it on. 
Roll on your hoop, my boy, roll it on. 
Roll on the cask, the cart is ready for it. 
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll. 


> 



ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IJ^ COMBINATIOX. 



107 



Elements of Emphasis in Combination. 





Asdet 

For 8ta 
tt 

e 

1 

1 

»3 


enru 

tes c 
lat a 

i 

i 


med by 

f mind 
re 

13 

ii 
11 

tJD-J, 

ll 

02 


the general spirit of phrases and passages : 

Movement becomes slower in all phrases 

representing what moves slowly, or introducing 
into the general sense importance, information 
or peculiarity ; and faster in those representing 
what moves fast, or expressing what is compar- 
atively valueless, knoivn, acknowledged, fore- 
stalled or rejjetitious in statement or sequence. 
In some of the same phrases are also changes 
in melody and key; and iti some (with or 
without changes in melody and key) in force 
and also in quality. 


j 


1 
I 


cS 


-2 

1 


^ 

^ 
S 


a. On with the dance! let joy be unconfined. . . . 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet; 
But hark! — that . . sound breaks in once more, 
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! 

Arm! Arm! it is! — it is! — the cannon's opening 
roar ! 


1 

1 




1^ 




a 


b. Be we men, and suffer such dishonor? 
i have known deeper wrongs; I that sp^ak to ye, 
I had a brother once — a gracious boy, 
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 
Of sweet and quiet joy. 


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d. Last eve, in Beauty's circle, proudly gay, 

The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife; 
The morn, the marshalling in arms; the day. 
Battle's magnificently stern array! 
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when 

rent 
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and pent. 
Rider and horse,— friend,— foe,— in one red burial 

blent! 


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Pure. I see Queen Mab has been with you. 
Aspirate. '* I see what " " 
Guttural. " that villain " " 
Pectoral. " that ghost " ** 
Orotund. " liberty " *' 



108 



oratok's manual. 



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ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IN COMBIiSTATION. 



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110 orator's manual. 



ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IN COMBINATION. 

142. On consulting the diagram (§ 140) it will be noticed that, as 
a rule, in consecutive discourse, fast time, ruried and high pitch, 
sustained force and thin (pure or aspirate) volume go with one an- 
other; also slow time, unvaried and low pitch, suppressed force 
and full (orotund, guttural or pectoral) volume. In other words, 

143. In the degree in which the mental state to be ex- 
pressed is light, gay, lively or uncontrolled, for any cause, the 
time is fast, the pitch varied and high, the force sustained 
and the volume thin (pure or aspirate). 

Light, gay banter. 

1. Oh! then I see Queen Mab has been with you. 

She comes 

In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
On the fore-finger of an alderman, 
Drawn with a team of little atomies 
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: 
And in this state she gallops night by night 
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love: 
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: 
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: 
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream. 

Gay, lively description. 

2. One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, — 
When they reached the hall door, where the charger 

stood near: 
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, — 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 
"She is won! — we are gone, over bank, bush, and 

scaur ; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young 

Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby 

clan; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and 

they ran: — 
There was racing, and chasing, o'er Cannobie Lee; 



ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IN COMBINATION. Ill 

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. — 

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?" 

Uncontrolled delight. 

3. So you must wake and call me early, call me early, 

mother dear; 

To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad 
New- Year : 

To-morrow '11 be of all the year the maddest, mer- 
riest day. 

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be 
Queen o' the May. 

Uncontrolled astonishment. 

4. This drudge laid claim to me; called me Dromio; 
swore I was assured to her; told me what private marks I 
had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my 
neck, the great wart on my left arm, — that I, amazed, ran 
from her as a witch ; and I think, if my breast had not been 
made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transformed 
me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn i' the wheel. 

The extreme, uncontrolled terror, as in the scream of sudden fright. 

Oh, murder, murder, murder! — who's there? 

144. In the degree in which the mental state to be ex- 
pressed is serious, grave, dignified or self-determined, for any 
cause, the time is sloiv, the pitch unvaried and loiv, the 
force suppressed, and the volume full (oratund, guttural 
or pectoral). 

Serious, grave, dignified, self-determined appeal. 

1. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judg- 
ment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. 
All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in 
this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave 
off, as I began, that live or die, survive or perish, I am for 
the declaration. It is my living sentiment, and by the 
blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment: independ- 
ence, now; and independence forever. 



112 orator's manual. 

Grave, dignified description of the grand or sublime. 

2. Then the earth shook and trembled: the foundations 
of heaven moved and shook, because he was wroth. There 
went up a smoke out of his nostrils; and fire out of his 
mouth devoured: coals were kindled by it. He bowed the 
heavens, also, and came down; and darkness was under his 
feet; and he rode upon a cherub, and did fly; and he was 
seen upon the wings of the wind; and he made darkness 
pavilions round about him, dark waters, and thick clouds of 
the skies. The Lord thundered from heaven, and the Most 
High uttered his voice ; and he sent out arrows and scattered 
them; lightning, and discomfited them. And the channels 
of the sea appeared; the foundations of the world were dis- 
covered at the rebuking of the Lord, at the blast of the 
breath of his nostrils. 

Grave horror, despair. 

3. Some lay down 
And hid their eyes, and wept; and some did rest 
Their chins upon their clinched hands, and smiled; 
And others hurried to and fro, and fed 

Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up, 
With mad disquietude, on the dull sky, 
The pall of a past world; and then again 
With curses, cast them down upon the dust, 
And gnash'd their teeth, and howl'd. 

The extreme, suppressed terror. 

In thoughts from the visions of the night, when de^ 
sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me and trembling, 
which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed 
before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood 
still; but I could not discern the form thereof. An image 
was before mine eyes; there was silence; and I heard a 
voice saying, "Shall mortal man be more just than God? 
Shall a man be more pure than his Maker? '' 

145. Irregular or unusual combinations of the 

elements of emphasis: The mind's judgment, motives, en- 
ergy and feelings (§ 32) are not all of them invariably af- 
fected in analogous ways by the same phraseology. We 
cannot, therefore, always use the kinds of time, pitch, force 
and volume that as a rule accompany one another. 



ELEMENTS OF EMPHASfS IN COMBINATIOX. 113 

a. Here it is necessary to represent the light esteem in which the judg- 
ment holds the villains,— the objects of consideration: but it is also necessary 
to represent that they have a serious and grave e.lect upon its zaotives, 
energTT and feelings. So we have fast time with low pitch, suppressed force 
and full (orotund, guttural and aspirate) volume. 

Villains! you did not threat when your vile daggers 

Hacked one another in the sides of Caesar! 

You showed your teeth like apes, and fawned like hounds, 

And bowed like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet; 

Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind. 

Struck Caesar on the neck. Oh, flatterers! 

b. Here the mind judges that the fact mentioned is of serious and grave 
import, but this fact has an exhilarating, enlivening, i. e. a light, lively effect, 
on its motives, energy and feelings. So we have slow time, with high 
fitch, sustained force and fine (pure) volume. 

Rejoice, ye men of Angiers! ring your bells. 

King John, your king and England's, doth approach. 

Open your gates, and give the victors way! 

c. Here the motive is light, gay, lively, but judgment, energy and 
feeling are prompted to treat what is seen as something worthy of serious con- 
sideration. Hence we have high pitch with comparatively slow time, unsus- 
tained (natural) force and full volume. 

Hurrah! hurrah! Come here ! It's perfectly splendid! You 
can see one — two — three — four — five — you can see seven different 
s! 



d. Here a serious and grave motive needs to be represented; but together 
with it a judgment that holds the object of consideration in light esteem, 
and energy and feeling that are Avell-nigh uncontrollable. So we have low 
pitch with fast time, partially sustained force and thin (aspirated) volume. 

Thou little valiant, great in villainy! 
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! 
Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety ! 

6. Here the mind is stimulated to activity and energ^r, befitting a gay, 
lively mood, but its judgment, motives and feelings are affected as by 
a serious, dignified consideration. So we have sustained force, with compara- 
tively slow time, low pitch and full (orotund) volume. 

Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours! 
Warble, bugle, and trumpet blare! 
Flags flutter out upon turrets and towers! 
Flames on the windy headland flare! 



114 orator's manual. 

utter your jubilee, steeple and spire! 
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air! 
Flash, ye cities in rivers of fire ! 
Rush to the roof, sudden rocket and higher 
Melt into stars, for the land's desire! 

f. Here no more energy is demanded than is appropriate for a serious, 
earnest description, but the facts described are such as to have a light, gay, 
lively effect in their appeal to the judgrment, motives and feelings. So 
we have unsustained (natural) force, with fast time, high pitch and thin (pure) 
wlurne. 

And gayety on restless tiptoe hovers. 

Giggling with all the gallants who beset her; 

And there are songs and quavers, roaring, humming, 

Guitars, and every other sort of strumming. 

And there are dresses, splendid, but fantastical, 

Masks of all times and nations, Turks and Jews, 
And harlequins and clowns, with feats gymnastical, 
Greeks^ Romans, Yankee-doodles and Hindoos. 

g-. Here the thought considered has a light, gay, at least, pleasurable, ef- 
fect on the feelings, but to the judgment, motives and energy it appeals 
as something worthy of serious attention. So we have thin (pure) volume with 
comparatively slow time, low pitch and unsustained (natural) /orce. 

The cheerful man is not only easy in his thoughts, but 
a perfect master of all the powers and faculties of the soul : 
his imagination is always clear, and his judgment undis- 
turbed; his temper is even and unruffled, whether in action 
or solitude. He comes with a relish to all those goods 
which Nature has provided for him, tastes all the pleasures 
of the creation which are poured about him, and does not 
feel the full weight of those accidental evils which may 
befall him. 

h. Here the feelings are seriously and gravely affected, but the judg- 
ment, for the time, holds the objects of consideration in light esteem, and the 
motives and energy are both uncontrolled, rather than self-determined. So 
we have full (orotund, guttural and aspirate) xiolume with comparatively fast 
time, high pitch and sustained force. 

You souls of geese. 
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run 
From slaves that apes would beat! — Pluto and hell! 
All hurt behind; backs red and faces pale 
With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, 
Or by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe. 
And make my wars on you: look to't: come on! 



TRANSITIOXS AND MODULATION. 115 

146. In Oratory the very fact that ideas are presented at all, 
implies that the mind judges them to be important, so far as con- 
cerns its measurement of them; but, in the degi-ee in vrhich one 
becomes eloquent, their effect on its motives and energy is that of 
something exciting, animating, transporting; accordingly, 

a. The different parts of an Oration should be emphasized 
thus: The moreine)tt throughout (whether relatively fast q^ slow) 
should be somewhat sJoiver than in ordinary conversation , while 
pitch and force should usually be somewhat more high, varied, loud 
and sustained. Usually, both in opening and closing, the movement 
should be quite slow, the pitch about the same as in conversation, 
and force just enough to make one's self heard. 

TRAXSITIOXS AXD MODULATION. 

147. Transitions occur wherever there are decided 
changes in the sentiment (from light or gay, for example, to 
weighty or grave). §§ 142-144 require that these should 
be represented by corresponding changes in time, pitch, 
force and volume. The changes themselves are called 
Transitions; the method of producing them with proper 
elocutionary effect is Modulation. 

The secret of making- Transitions well, is to make them so 
that, while sufficiently marked to indicate the passage from one set 
of ideas to another, they shall not be made so abruptly as to inter- 
fere ivith the effect of unity or continuity in the delivery considered as 
a whole; in other words, so that while separating and emphasizing 
particular ideas, they shall not interrupt the flow of the general 
thought. This should pass from an impetuous to a quiet, or from a 
quiet to an impetuous passage, veiy much as water flows from a 
running stream into a still pond, or vice versa, — with more or less of 
a gradual abatement or increase of energy. The enthusiasm, for 
example, that causes a rush of words in one passage, like the mo- 
mentum urging on the waters of a cataract, will be carried over 
somewhat into a succeeding passage, no matter how calm in itself 
may be the nature of the thought that this latter presents. Hence 
the following principles, which one speaking with great earnestness 
will apply instinctively, but which, for ordinary occasions, one must 
learn to apply. 

148. One shonld prepare for a transition 

a. In time, in the degree in which the change is great, by one or 
more decidedly long pauses. 



116 orator's manual. 

b. In pitch., in addition to the pauses, by one or more long 
slides, or a siiccessio)) of si/Uahles, deckhdbj ascending or descending 

the scale to meet the pitch that is to follow. (Practice § 13.) 

c. In force or volume, in addition to the pauses, hif a corre- 
spondingly gradual change in each of these. (Practice § 13.) 

149. In the following, the preparation for the more weighty and 
grave conclusion must be made by pausing and slowly descending 
the scale, with less and less force, in the passage ''now lies he 
fliere ' ' : 

Ant. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 

Have stood against the v^orld: now \ lies \ he \ there, 

And none so poor to do him reverence. 

a. Make a similar change in the third and fourth lines of the 
following : 

" Glory to God! " unnumbered voices sung; 
" Glory to God! " the vales and mountains rung; 
Voices that hailed creation's primal morn, 
And to the shepherds sung a Savior born. 
Slowly, bareheaded, through the surf we bore 
The sacred cross, and, kneeling, kissed the shore. 

b. In the following, gradually ascend scale and increase in 
rapidity and force, on ''the bright sun rises,"" "not such «5," and 
* 'slaves to a horde. ' ' Descend and decrease in rapidity, but not in force, 
on "a race of slaves,'" " falls 07i a slave,'' " base, ignoble slaves," etc. 

We are slaves! 
The bright ' sun | rises to his course, | and lights | 
A RACE OF SLAVES! He sets, I and his last ' beam 
Falls on" a slave: not such as, \ swept ' along ' 
By the full ' tide of power, | the conqueror | leads 
To crimson ' glory | and undying ' fame, | — 
But BASE, ' ignoble slaves ! — slaves ' to a horde 

Of PETTY TYRANTS, FEUDAL ' DESPOTS; 16rds, | 

Rich I in some dozen ' paltry ' villages; | 

Strong I in some hundred ' spearmen; | only ' great 

In that I strange | spell — a NAME ! 

c. Gradually increase the emphasis in the fifth and sixth lines of 
the following, ^tndy particularly § 97, and examples; also § 107: a. 

He left my side, 
A summer bloom on his fair checks — a smile 
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour. 



TRAXSITIOXS AXD MODULATIOI^-. 11? 

The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance! House, ye Romans! Rouse, ye slaves! 
Have ye brave sons? — Look in the next fierce brawl 
To see them die! Have ye fair daughters? — Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash ! 

d. Practice also the modulation in the following: [si. slow; qu. 
quick; mod. moderate time; h. high; h low; med. medium pitch; 
/. loud; ff. very loud; /j. j^P- soft; nat, natural force; 0. orotund; 
P. pure; A. aspirate; G. guttural.) 

ONLY IMPORTANT PAUSES INSERTED. 

si. h.f. 0. Once more \ unto the hreach, \ dear friends, 

once I more., \ 
abate. Or close the wall itp \ with our English | dead! 

mod. med. j In peace, I there's nothing so becomes a man, 
varied p.p. | ^g jnodest stillness | and humility; 

But when the blast of tvdr \ blows in our ears, 
Then | imitate the action of the tiger; 
Stiffen the sineivs, summon up the hldod, 
Disguise \ fair nature | with hard- | favored | 

rage. 
"On, on, I you noblest | English, 
Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war- 
proof ! 
Fathers, | that, like so many | Alexanders, 
Have, I in these parts, | from morn till eve^t \ 
fought, 

abate. And sheathed their sivords for lack of drgument. 

qu.risingA I see you stand I like greyhounds in the slips, | 
qu.h.f. 0. \ straining upon the start. The game's afOot; 
I Follow your spirits, | and upon this | charge | 
si.h.ff.o. Cry — Heaven | for Harry! England! and St. 
George ! 

150. In the transition of the paragraph, i.e. when 
passing from one phase or division of a subject to another, 
a gradual change in time, pitch, force and volume should be 
made, according to the sentiment, either on the last words 
of a closing paragraph, or on the first words of an opening 
one. 



qu. h. 
ff- G- 



mod. h. 
ff- o. 



118 ORATOKS MAXUAL. 

Sometimes it is immaterial which of these courses is adopted; 
but generally, as in the following extract, the sentiment will deter- 
mine this. Let the student read this extract over, intentionally 
increasing his sjjeed and power, and raising his ptitcJi toward the end 
of each paragraph, so as to learn how to make, smoothly and natu- 
rally, the transitions in movement, pitch and force, that his following 
this direction will necessitate. 

1. One can never ' think ' of that French ' boy, | eigh- 
teen ' years of age, | just ' married, | rolling ' in wealth, | 
and basking ' in the sunshine ' of court ' favor, | sending 
ap ' from the Tuileries ' of P4ris | his shout ' for us | and 
our ' cause, | without the deepest | emotion. Our admira- 
tion ' and affection | are not ' lessened | when we see him 
I lavishing ' his ivealth \ on our naked, ' famishing ' sol- 
diers — winding himself, \ in child- ' like ' love, \ round the 
great ' heart ' of onr Washington — charging like sl yetebah 1 
through the RAKKS | of our FOEMElf, || and carried \\\ pale | 
and bleeding | || from our ' disastrous || fields. ||| 

There is s6mething || exquisitely || touching | and beauti- 
ful I in the enthusiasm ' of this ' youth | in our behalf. 
France \ wished us ' success, | because it would revenge 
her I for the loss ' of her colonies | in this country, | and 
weaken ' the power ' of her rival | in the New ' World; 
but these motives | never entered into the heart ' of La 
Fayette. He | saw only a weak ' but brave ' people | strug- 
gling to be free, \ and, overlooking \ all ' questions of interest, 
breaking AWAY i from all ' ties ' of home, \ family, \ and 
country, \ threw himself ' ALO]S"E | into our arms.|| Nation- 
al ' ])rejudice, \ the jealousy ' of our officers, | and the cold- 
ness ' of Congress, \ could not c/?ec^■ | the w^arm ' current' 
of his sympathy. For us | he was determined ' to contend 
I in 6ur ' cause, ' expend ' his fortune \ and peril ' his Ufe. 
Not an exile \ nor an adventurer, \ but a wealthy, ' jBattered 
'young ' nobleman, | he cast from him | the luxuries ' and 
gayeties ' of the French ' court, \ turned away from all' 
the HONORS I that clustered ' in his path, \ and became' 
the companion ' of our ' poverty ' and toils — || the 
jest I and 6?/- word | of kings. ||| 

Feiv II men || have passed | through || so ' many H and so 
' fearful || changes. From a young ' courtier | he passed 
into the self-denying, | toilsome ' life | of a general ' in the 



TRAXSITIOXS AND MODULATION. 119 

ill- ' clothed, | ill- ' fed. | and ill- ' disciplined | American ' 
army — || thence | into the vortex ' of the French ' Revo- 
lution I and_^ all its ' horrors — thence into the gloomy ' 
prison ' of Olmutz. After a few ' years ' of retirement, | 
he appeared ' on our ' shores | to receive the welcome || of a 
grateful || jjeople, || to hear a nation | shout | his ' praise, 
I and BEAR him | from one ' limit ' of the LAND ' to anoth- 
er I in its arms. 

* A FEW II YEARS II pass ^btj,\ and, || with his gray ' hairs | 
falling about his aged ' countenance, | he stands ' amid the 
students ' of Paris, | and sends ' his feeble ' shout ' of de- 
fiance I to the throne ' of the Bourbon, \ and it \ falls. Ris- 
ing I more ' by his virtue ' than his intellect, | he holds ' a 
prominent ' place ' in the history ' of France, | and, link- 
ed ' with Washington, | goes down ' to a GREATER IM- 
MORTALITY I than awaits \ amj \ emperor | or mere war- 
rior I of the HUMAN ' race. 

* His love I for this countrij \ was deep \ and abiding. To 
the last I his heart turned ' hither, | and well it might. His 
career ' of glory | began on our ' shores — on our ' cause \ he 
staked his reputation, | fortune, and life, j and in our \ suc- 
cess I received the benediction of the good \ throughout ' the 
world. 

151. The following is full of violent transitions, and for this 

teason affords excellent practice. 

P I should be surprised, | indeed, | if, | while you are do- 
ing us wrong, | you did not profess ' your solicitude | to 
do us justice. From the day ' on which Strongbow | set 
his foot ' upon the shore ' of Ireland, | Englishmen ' were 
never ' wanting \ in protestations ' of their deep ' anx- 

/ iety I to do us ' jiistice; | even Strafford, \ the deserter ' 

f of the people's ' cause, | the renegade Wentworth, \ who 
gave evidence ' in Ireland | of the spirit ' of instinctive 
tyranny | which predominated ' in his character, — even 
Strafford, ) while he trampled ' upon our rights, | and 
trod ' upon the heart ' of the country, protested his solic- 
itude I to do justice ' to Ireland! What marvel is it, then, 
* uttered forcibly, that the tranaition may not he too abrupt. 



120 ORATOR'S MANUAL. 

that gentlemen ' opposite \ should deal ' in such vehe- 
/ ment ' protestations? There is, ' however, | one ' man, | 
P of great ' abilities, — not a member ' of this House, | but 
?w whose talents | and whose boldness | have placed him ' on 
the topmost ' place ' in his party, — who, | disdaining all ' 
imposture, | and thinking it ' the best ' course | to ap- 
peal ' directly | to the religious | and national | antijDa- 
thies I of the people ' of this country | — abandoning ' 
all ' reserve, | and flinging ' off | the slender ' veil | by 
which his political ' associates | aifect ' to cover, | al- 
sl though they cannot hide | their motives, — distinctly ' and 
audaciously | tells ' the Irish ' people | that they are not 
f entitled | to the same ' privileges | as Englishmen ; \ and 
P pronounces them, | in any ' particular | which could en- 
quiQT his minute ' enumeration ' of the circumstances | by 
which fellow ' citizensWp ' is created, | in r4ce, | iden- 
si tity I and religion, | to be aliens; \ to be aliens \ in race, i 
iTto be aliens \ in country, || to be aliens \ in religion ! 
ALIENS! II g6od || GOD! || was i-RxnuR | Duke ' of Wel- 
lington, I in the House ' of Lords, | and did he not start 
up II and exclaim: | ^'Hold! || / have seen \ the aliens \ do i 
THEIR II DUTY! " II The DUKE* | of Wellington || is not j 
P a MAN 1 of an excitable || temperament, f His mind is of a 
cast I too martial \ to be easily \ mOved ; but, notwithstand- 
gwing ' his habitual ' inflexibility, | I cannot | help | think- 
ing I that, when he heard ' his Roman ' Catholic ' c6un- 
trymen (for we are his countrymen) designated by a 
phrase | as offensive | as the abundant ' vocabulary ' of 
his eloquent ' confederate ' could supply, || — I cannot j 
a help I thinking | that he ought ' to have recollected | the 
/ many ' fields ' of fight \ in which ' we have been ' con- 
♦ uttered forcibly, that the transition may not be too abrupt. 



TRANSITIONS AND MODULATION. 121 

tributors ' to his renown. " The battles, | sieges, | f6r- 

tunes I that he has passed," | ought | to have come ' 

hack ' upon him. He ought to have remembered | that, ' 

gufrom the earliest achievement | in which he displayed ' 

that military ' genius | which has placed him ' foremost | 

in the annals ' of modern ' warfare, | down to that last ' 

si and surpassing ' combat | which has made his name | ini- 

ff perishable, \ — from AssATE | to Waterloo, — the Irish ' 

/ soldiers, | with whom ' your armies ' are filled, \ were 

the inseparable ' auxiliaries ' to the glory | with which his 

unparalleled ' successes | have been crowned. | Whose \ 

were the arms — that drove ' your bayonets ' at Vimiera | 

/ through the phalanxes | that 7iever reeled ' in the shock of 

/ war I before? \ What || desperate | valor || climbed | the 

steeps II and filled || the moats || at Badajos? All || his 

e'M victories | should have rushed \ and crowded || bach || upon 

his memory, \ — Vimiera, \ Badajos, \ Salamanca, \ Albu- 

si era, \ Toulouse, \ and, last ' of all, | the geeatest ||| — . 

ff TELL ME II — for you were there, | — I appeal to the gal- 

pglant soldier before me | (Sir Henry Hardinge), from whose 

opinions ' I differ, | but who bears, ' I know, | a g^ner- 

/ ous ' heart | in an intrepid breast, | — tell me, | — for 

you must needs remember, | — on that day | when the 

g-wdestinies ' of mankind ' were trembling ' in the bdla^ice, \ 

while death ' fell in sh6wers, | when the artillery ' of 

France | was leveled ' with a precision ' of the most | 

deadly ' science || — when her legions, | incited by the 

v6ice I and inspired by the example | of their mighty | 

leader, | rushed 4gain | and 4gain | to the onset || — TELL 

me I if, I for an instant, | when to hesitate ' for an instant ' 

jTwas to be lost, | the "aliens" ||| BLENCHED ? And 

ti when, ' at length, | the moment for the last ' and decided ' 

6 



122 orator's manual. 

f mdvement | had arrived, | and the valor | which had so 
g'^ong ' been wisely ' checked | was, ' at last, | let loose, — 
when, I with words ' familiar, ' but immortal, | the great | 
captain | commanded the great \ assault, — tell me | if 
ff CATHOLIC I IRELAND with less | heroic | valor | than 
si the natives ' of this | your own ' glorious ' country | pre- 
/ cipitated herself | upon the foe? The blood | of England, | 
P Scotland | and of Ireland | flowed in the same 1| stream, | 
p;> and drenched ' the same || field. | When the chill ' morn- 
ing ' dawned, | their dead | lay cold ' and stark | together; 
in the same | deep | pit | their bodies ' were deposited; | 
the green ' corn ' of spring | is now breaking ' from their 
commingled \ dtist; the dew ' falls from heaven | upon 
their union | in the grave. Partakers ' in every ' peril, | 
/ in the glory | shall we not be permitted ' to participate ; | 
and ' shall we be told, | as a requital, | that we are es- 
tranged ' from the noble ' country | for whose ' salvation] 
our life-blood | was poured ' out? 
{See, also, §§ 211-225: 7, 12, 14, 15, 25, 34, 35, 36, 46, 48, 52, 53.) 

MASSING OR GROUPING. 

152. We have learned (§ 21) that words, or series of words, as- 
sociated with one another, either by being in apposition or by having 
similar grammatical relationships or general characteristics, are 
similarly emphasized. This principle, especially in long and in- 
volved sentences, leads to the massing- or grouping together of 
words or clauses, important or uni important, so that the ear shall 
readily detect the connection between them. To understand this 
principle, compare illustrations under § 21 : a, § 22, § 38: a, §§ 40-42. 

153. The Emphatic Tye is used to connect together 
important ideas that are separated by unimportant clauses. 

a. It results when two words separated by intervening ones are 
similarly emphasized; i. e. are uttered in similar time (preceded 
and followed by pauses of the same length), and usually, too, at a 
similar pitch, with similar inflections and force. 



MASSING Oil groupi:n'g. 123 

b. Unemphatic ideas in clauses that separate important 
words, are similarly slighted; i. e. are uttered with a similar rapid- 
ity of general movement, and usually with a similar abatement in 
the height of pitch and degree oi force. 

c. In the following the words in italics are to be emphasized 
with the emphatic tye. 

As men from men 
Do, in the constitution of their souls, 
Differ by mysteries not to be explained; 
And as we fall by various ways, and sink 
Through manifold degrees to guilt and shame; 
So manifold and various are the ways 
Of restoration. 

When Babel was confounded, and the great 
Confederacy of projectors, wild and vain, 
Was split into diversity of tongues; 
Then, as a shepherd separates his flock, — 
These to the upland, to the valley those, — 
God drave asunder, and assigned their lot 
To all the nations. 

Consulting what I feel within, 
In times when most Existence with herself 
Is satisfied, I cannot but believe 
That, far as kindly Nature hath free scope. 
And Reason's sway predominates, even so far, 
Country, society, and even time itself. 
That saps the individual's bodily frame. 
And lays the generations low in dust. 
Do, by the Almighty Ruler's grace, partake 
Of one maternal spirit. 

All night the dreadless angel, unpursued. 
Through heaven's wide champaign held his way till morn, 
Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand, 
Unbarred the gates of light. 
{See, also, selections in §§ 211-226: 1, 7, 12, 25, 51, 53.) 



154. By Drift is meant a mode of delivery in which 
pauses, inflections (if upward, starting low; if downward, 



124 orator's manual. 

starting high) and stress of a similar kind are constantly 
recurring at regular intervals. The following can be spoken 
with drift: 

We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, 
and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it forever. "We 
rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit which 
has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences 
which have been produced, by the same events, on the general 
interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot 
which must forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that 
whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold 
that the place is not undistinguished, where the first great battle of 
the Revolution was fought. We wish that this structure may pro- 
claim the magnitude and importance of that event to every class and 
every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its 
erection from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may 
behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. 
We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud, in the midst of 
its toil. We wish that, in those days of disaster which, as they 
come on all nations, must be expected to come on us also, despond- 
ing patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that 
the foundations of our national power still stand strong. We wish 
that this column, rising toward heaven among the pointed spires of 
so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce 
in all minds a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, 
finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native 
shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something 
which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. 
Let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of 
the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit. 
{See, also, selections in §§ 214, 215, 218, 219; also § 76: a.) 
a. The possibility of applying drift to delivery depends largely 
on the rhetorical construction of sentences. An oration should 
always be written with direct reference to the requu-ements of 
speaking. 

CLIMAX. 

This is fully explained in §§ 83-85, and illustrated in 
selections in § 215. 



GESTURE. 

155. By this is meant the art of representing thought through 
the movements of the body. There is a negative and a positive side 
to the subject. The first has to do with the different members of 
the body when one is )iot gesticulating; the second, when one is 
gesticulating. 

Positions and Movements of the Body when Not 
Gesturing. 

156. a. The Head and Trunk. Face what is before 
you, and yet hold the chin down; — down, i. e. in distinction 
from uj) or out, as if the chin were pointing forward. 
This is a simple rule which, if observed in standing or 
walking, usually causes an erect position and graceful 
bearing. If carried out, it will throw the shoulders and 
back into an erect position, with the least possible danger 
of causing it to seem to be a stiff one. 

b. Avoid holding the head, trunk or shoulders too much 

I. Thrown hack or up. People do not like to have one seem to 
look above them. It suggests self-conceit or arrogance, § 200. 

II. Hung down. For an opposite reason, this suggests humility, 
bashfulness, shame. 

III. Inclined to one side. This suggests languor. 

IV. Too stiffly in any position. This suggests an unyielding 
temperament or an uncultivated bearing. 

157. a. The Hands and Arms may hang at the sides, with 
palms toward the body and fingers bent; or 

b. They may both be placed low down in front with the elbows 
slightly bent, and the fingers together, clasped or unclasped; or 

c. One hand may hang at the side, and the other be held on the 
ivaist, as if preparing to gesture. In this hand the thumb may rest 
in the watch chain, or the finger be pointing down, or all fingers be 
folded together. 

d. Avoid having one or both hands 

1. Out of sight behind the back, suggesting backwardness, 
awkwardness. 

125 



126 oeator's manual. 

II. Playing with each other, with the clothing or the watch chain, 
isuggesting- nervousness or embarrassment. 

158. In Reading, hold the hook in the left hand, slightly to one 
side, so as not to bide the face; and gesture with the right hand. 

159. The Feet and Lower Limbs. Arrange the 

feet, in standing, about four inches apart, and so that a 
.straight line drawn through one foot from toe to heel will 
pass through the heel of the other. {See §§ 161, 162.) 

a. This is the position assumed naturally by all strong men who 
are also graceful. In taking this position, avoid placing the feet 

I. Too far ajxai, as if bracing one's self against opposition. 

II. Too near together, as if unprepared to meet opposition. 
The position should not suggest opposition in any form. 

160. Stand firmly, with hoth knees iinhent; ijut resting the 
body 

I. On one foot — not on both of them; 

II. On the ball and heel of the foot — not on either exclusively. 

a. This position will throw the body slightly forward of the 
feet, as if about to step toward the audience, and will throw the hips 
a little to one side, into such a position that a line drawn perpen- 
dicularly through the center of the head and trunk above will pass 
through the heel of the fovt on which the body rests. 

b. The body may lean on the front foot, and incline slightly for- 
ward in earnest appeal. In dispassionate address it usually rests on 
the foot behind. 

Avoid 

I. Moving up and down on the toes, and appearing unsteady. 

II. Changing often the position of the feet, and appearing un- 
settled. 

III. Bending often, or holding, in a visibly hent position, one oi 
both of the knees. Always stand or walk with the knee on which 
the body rests made as straight as possible. Few who appear to be 
weak-kneed themselves can awaken the confidence of others. 

IV. Resting equally upon hoth feet. This is ungraceful, suggest- 
ing a lack of repose — that a man apprehends disturbance — is 
anxious to walk away. 

V. Leaning too far to one side. Above the hips, the trunk and 
head should be erect. One should not appear to need support. A 
"nan of firm understanding should stand firmly. 

161. In shifting the position (not walking) in order to throw 



GESTICULATION. 1 2 i 

the weight of the body on the foot that has been resting, eitlier talve 
one step forward or backward, or lift the heels slightly and turn on 
the balls of the feet. . 

a. Shift the position icJule speaking, and just before or after a 
transition, and time the steps to the accent ov emphasis cm important 
syllables. 

162. In -walking across the stage, the orator, as distin- 
guished from the actor, usually needs to face, in order to keep con- 
trol of, his audience. If he gives them the side view that is afforded 
when they see his legs and feet cross each other, he runs a risk of 
losing this control. Some years ago the author made the following 
chart from the positions taken by the feet of Edward Everett during 
one of his orations. They seemed to be studied. 

[AUDIENCE.] 

V }-^" V 

Beginning at A, he kept gradually drawing one foot behind the 
other till, in the course of five or ten minutes, he had reached B. 
From B, during an animated passage, he walked rapidly across the 
stage to C, but moved forward diagonally, with the right foot fore- 
most, so none saw his feet cross. Then he retired gradually to 
D, and from here walked across to A again, with the left foot fore- 
most ; and so on throughout the evening. This chart will also serve 
to show how the position mentioned in § 159 can always be main- 
tained. 

Positions and Movements of the Body when 
Gestdring. 

163. Of these, there are two kinds, usually more or less 
combined, yet which, for the sake of explanation, may be 



128 orator's manual. 

separated. The}^ are the objective gestures, used mainly 
in Oratory; and the subjective ones, used mainly in dra- 
matic reading or acting. Both represent and enforce what 
a man thinks with reference to a subject. But the former 
do this in order to show the relation of the subject to the 
audience; the latter, to show the relation of the subject to 
the sjyeaker. In the former, the general direction of all the 
movements is /rom the speaker (his head, heart, and body 
generally,) toward the audience; in the latter, the direction 
of the movements is from the audience toward the speaker. 
We will consider, first, the 

OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 
The Head and Trunk. 

164. The movements of the head in ordinary Oratory should 
be few, and, except in the case of the bow, usually accompanied by 
gestures of the hands. If these, the most instinctive vehicles of 
expression, are held still, while the head moves, there is an appear- 
ance of restraint, and the effect is stiff and ungraceful. For a similar 
reason, a very slight bow often accompanies an emphatic hand- 
gesture. For gestures with the head alone, ei/es, nose, mouth, and 
countenance generally, see §§ 195-198. Here we will consider only 
the bow. 

165. Bow slowly; start the movement in the middle of 
the spine; carry the shoulders slightly forward, slightly 
crushing in the chest, and incline the head from the neck; 
but keep the eyes on the audience, and the hands motion- 
less, except so far as they fall forward naturally with the 
shoulders. 

a. Avoid, therefore, making the bow 

I. Too rapidly. The bow represents thought just starting or 
just ending; in neither case, therefore, under sufficient headway to 
justify excitement. 

II. From the neck alone. It then appears presumptuous — too 
flippant and familiar. 

III. From the waist mainly. It then appears repelling — too 
stiff and dignified. 

IV. With the eyes on the floor, as if one had no oversight nor 
control of his audience. 



OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 129 

V. With hands swinging too loosely, as if one had no control 
of himself. 

The Hands and Arms. 

166. The first principle with regard to these is not to 
exaggerate their importance. 

No one can be an orator who cannot attract and interest an 
audience by merely the modulations of his voice. It is good prac- 
tice sometimes to refrain from gestures, and to try to produce ex- 
pression and effects without them. 

167. A second principle is, never to gesticulate except 
to emphasize ideas. This principle leads one to 

a. Avoid making gestures at or near the beginning 
of a speech; 

Except, of course, when there is some exciting cause or reason 
for it, as at the opening of a prayer or benediction. Usually, it is 
only after thought is under headway that it appears natural to 
represent it as having sufficient momentum to move the body as well 
as the mind. This same principle leads us also to 

b. Avoid making gestures, except so far as the mean- 
ing of them is understood. 

Their object is to give additional expression, emphasis and repre- 
sentation to ideas. They can do this, so far only as they are used 
intelligently. Before proceeding, therefore, it is necessary, first of 
all, that we understand the following: 

168. The Significance of the Hand and Arm 
Gestures may be ascertained or verified by noticing, in 
part, the natural movements of children and of grown peo- 
ple; and in part, the artistic movements and attitudes 
employed in the best elocutionary delivery, painting and 
sculpture. 

a. The Movements of the Arms convey the hands from 
one position to another, — down or up perpendicularly, round about 
the body horizontally ; or, as sometimes happens, both perpendicu- 
larly and horizontally at the same time. A little attention to the 
circumstances under which these movements take place will evince 
that they are all, to some extent, representative. A man makes 
them either because he is viewing or imagining external objects, and 



130 oratq-r's manual. 

describing them and his relation to them, or because he instinct- 
ively conceives of some analogy between the relation that he might 
sustain to such objects and the attitude which his mind actually does 
sustain to the subject which he wishes to emphasize. In both cases 
the direction taken by the arms indicates the general direction or 
tendency of the thoughts. In other words, 

169. The Arms move downward, upward, or 
round about the body, to represent, respectively, what is 
(really or ideally) under, above or on a level with the actor ; 
i.e. the actor's sight (point of view), grasp (mental compre- 
hension), or control (will-power). He nses each movement 
respectively in the degree in which he conceives of himself 
as the master, slave or associate of the thing thought of. 

a. It is sometimes said that the downward, upward and round- 
about directions of the arms emphasize, respectively, conceptions 
that have to do with the ■will, imagination and intellect. But 
it is thought that the principle just stated is more simple, both to 
understand and to apply, as well as more comprehensive of all the 
circumstances under which it is natural to use these movements. 
(>See§175.) 

170. The arrangement of the Hands in the gesture is evi- 
dently intended to give a peculiar character to the movement up 
and down or about the body ; i.e. to represent the character 
of the tJioughts, the direction and tendency of which are indicated 
by the arms. 

a. When, for instance, one's sensibilities are uppermost : when 
he is moved to feel and touch, for the purpose of welcoming or of 
repelling, of fondling or of pushing off, he uses the hand with the 
fingers unclasped. Therefore, 

b. The hand unclasped, whether used in emphasis or descrip- 
tion, represents the sensibilities, — thought that is emotional in its 
character, addressing itself to the emotions and sympathies of an 
audience. There are two forms in which the unclasped hand may 
be used, they are as follows : 

171. The Opening Gesture. This 
term is used not only on account of the 
peculiar movement of the fingers open- 
ing the palm to the audience, which in- 




OBJECTIVE GESTUKES. 131 

variably accompanies this gesture when it is rightly made, 
but because the gesture itself signifies an open mind, repre- 
sents the act of receiving or giving ; receiving from the 
mind to convey outward, or from without to conv^ey to the 
mind. It indicates, when used 

a. Emphatically, the opening of a channel of expres- 
sion or impression ; 

b. Descriptively, anything conceived of as open to 
thought or activity , therefore as unlimited, uncircumscribed, 
free. 

C. For the application of this principle to the different 
forms of the opening gesture, as made downward, upward, 
or about the body, see § 175. 

172. The Closing Gesture. This 
term is used not only because the hand, 
when making this gesture, especially if 
in a downward direction^ seems about 
ready to drop, with fingers closed, to its normal position at 
the side, but because the gesture, whenever it is made, sug- 
gests the idea of closing the mind to outside influence, of 
pushing down or away, or of wai^ding off, repressing ; and, in 
the degree in which the wrist is bent up vigorously, of 
repelling any object of sight or thought from the mind^s 
consideration. It indicates, when used 

a. Emphatically, the closing of the channel of expres- 
sion or impression ; 

b. Descriptively, anything conceived of as closed out 
from or closed in ; so anything limited or circumscribed, and 
this, too, in the sense of being separated from something 
else by outlines. It is used, therefore, in describing most 
things that are accurately delineated. 

0. For the application of this principle to the different 




132 orator's manual. 

forms of the closing gesture, as made downward, upward, 
or about the body, see § 175. 

173. When one's intellect is uppermost, when he is 
analyzmg, selecting and pointing out what he sees and 
knows, rather than what he feels or wills, and always when 
he is not moved by sufficient depth of sentiment or deter- 
mination to be anything but ^;/a?//t<7, he uses his jinger. 

a. The Finger gesture, therefore, represents that which 
is analytical in its character, addressing the intellect^ and 
directing attention, whether by way of emphasis or descrip- 
tion, to individual persons, objects or arguments. 

b. When one's "wlll is uppermost, when he has deter- 
mination and fight in him, and is addressing neither the 
sympathies nor the intellect but rather forcing the wills of 
those about him, he doubles up his fist. 

C. The Fist gesture, therefore, represents that which is 
forcible in its character, addressing itself to the ivill and 
the activities; when used descriptively, it represents that 
which can grasp, confine or control. 

d. The Fist and Finger gestures are sometimes combined, 
the thumb folded upon the three clasped fingers. This rep- 
resents one's determination with reference to some individ- 
ual person or object. 

174. Double Gestures, made with both hands, increase 
the degree, not the kind, of emphasis that would be given by 
the same gesture if made with one hand. 

a. An Opening Gesture, made with one hand at one side, at 
the same time as a Closing Gesture at the other side, indicates 
that the mind conceives of a siibject both in its possibilities of 
free expansion (the Opening Gesture) and of limitation (the Closing 
Gesture). 

b. When from this position the two hands are brought in front, 
with the fingers of the palm that is down (Closing) striking the palm 
that is up (Opening), it simply gives additional emphasis to this 
idea: that the mind is conceiving of a subject as completely under it» 



OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 133 

grasp (§§ 171, 172,) from beginning to end, where activity begins 
and where it stops. 

c. The two hands together, with the fingers straight and palms 
touching, indicate a conscious (otherwise the hands would remain at 
the sides) restraining of the tendency to enforce one's own views by 
appealing to others (the Opening position), and this either because 
the time has not come for enforcement, as when held below at the 
beginning of a speech, or because it would be of no avail as referring 
to something above one's control, as when held above, in supplica- 
tion. 

d. The two hands together, with the fingers straight and clasped, 
but the palms doivn (Closing position), add to the same indication a 
suggestion of independence. They show that the man does not care 
about enforcing his views; that he will hold them irrespective of the 
influence of others, which influence he is willing to close out. 

e. The two hands with the fingers folded and clasped, palms 
together, indicate something rigidly (clasp) restraining the tendency 
to enforce one's own views when appealing (Opening position). The 
restraint may come from the man himself, from his own feelings 
(nerves), thoughts or will, as when the hands are held helow; or 
from something outside or above himself, as when held in front or 
above the head in violent supplication. 

^W The general principles determining the significance of the 
different kinds of objective gestures described in these pages — not 
to the extent that might be possible, but sufficiently to answer all 
the requirements of ordinary oratory — have never been explained, 
as is believed, in the same way as in the present work; but it is 
simply a matter of justice to state that the gesture movements 
treated in the sections following page 136, which, in substance, have 
been taught for several years by the author and also by his pupils, 
were at first derived (how fully the author himself cannot now de- 
termine) from a portion of the very ingenious and successful methods, 
which it is hoped will at some time be published, originally taught 
in the University of Pennsylvania, by Professor S. M. Cleveland. 

Note. — The chart on the next two pages (134-5), which unfolds 
further the foregoing principles, should be read across the pages as 
well as up and down them. In it, everything that is said of any 
one arrangement of tlie Jimids is placed in tJie same column; and 
everything that is said of any one direction or position of the arms is 
placed in paragraphs which in the different columns occupy the same 
part of the pages. The black letters (1 o or o etc.) indicate the forms 
of the gestures which will be found represented in the cuts on pages 
137, 139 and 141. 



134 



orator's MAJy'UAL, 



175. Chart showing the significance of the Gestures. 



Arm Positions. 

a. Low Ges- 
ture, marked 1. , 
would refer to a path 
under one's point of 
view; assert a behef 
conceived to be un- 
der (or within) one's 
comprehension; or 
enforce an obliga- 
tion on those con- 
ceived to be under 
one's influence. 

b. High Ges- 
ture, marked h., 
would refer to a 
mountain top above 
one's own position ; 
would be used with 
an exclamation of 
wonder in thinking 
of something above 
one's comprehension 
or of fear of some- 
thing above his con- 
trol. 

c. Wave Ges- 
ture, marked w., 
so called because, 
in preparing for it, 
the hand necessarily 
makes a wave-like, 
horizontal move- 
ment; would refer 
to a real object be- 
fore, beside or be- 
hind (i. e. remote 
from) the speaker 
(marked f., s. or 
bk.), or to an object 
of consideration, as 
a present, side or 
past issue. The 
broader the scope of 
the object consid- 
ered, the higher and 
wider do the arms 
and the hands move. 



Opening Gestures. 
1. O. or O. 

Emotional, sympathetic form; 
submits anything as an open 
question to be finally decided by 
others to whose sympathy or 
judgment one appeals. It is the 
ordinary/ persuasive, argument- 
ative gesture; e. g. 

O. They should be banished; 
i. e. I think so; do not you — 
will not you — agree with me V 

h. O. 

Opens the mind to influences 
from above, or refers to any con- 
ceived of as grandly beneficial, 
liberalizing or insp)iring ; i. e. 
to sunshine, freedom or God as 
a father. Employed in the 
benediction or a prayer, it solic- 
its inspiring grace; expresses 
confidence in God and a desire 
to receive what he has to im- 
part. 

w. O. at breast level; l.-w. 
O. at hip level; f. O., bk. 
O., s. O., ending like a simple 
0. gesture. It appeals to those 
surrounding one, especially in 
questioning, inviting and ivel- 
coming; with the hand moving 
forward it expresses confidence, 
refers to friends; moving in- 
ward, or held in front of breast 
(with knuckles out) it expresses 
self-devotion, surrender, mod- 
esty, etc. 

Descriptively, it refers to a 
smiling landscape, or anything 
not too accurately delineated, in 
connection with which there is 
a sense oi freedom or pleasure. 

To shrug the shoulders and 
open the palms, represents that 
one has no accurately defined 
view of that to which he refers. 



0. Finger. 

1. O. F. or 

1. F. 

Intellectu- 
al, analytical 
form; appeals 
to others by 
opening up 
specific divi- 
sions or as- 
l^ects of a sub- 
ject; e. g. 

Is there one 
man? 

h. O. F. 

points or calls 
attention 
(sometimes 
with a wave 
movement, 
like beckon- 
ing) to speci- 
fic beneficial 
aspirations or 
influence s 
from above. 

w. O. F. to 

s., br., etc. 
Waved from 
the side or 
front toward 
some specific 
person or 
thing, and 
drawn back 
in the act of 
beckoning. 

Sometimes 
used to point 
to one's self. 
A combina- 
tion of the 
side O. F. 
with the fist, 
stigni atizes 
that to which 
it points ; or it 
maythreaten. 



I 



OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 



135 



0. Fist. Closing Gestures. 

l.O.Ft.,0. 1. C. 01 C. 

Ft or Ft 

Emotional, sympathetic 

Willful, form; closes out appeal or 

or forcible, debate with a setf-asseH- 

form ; ap- ice, dictative disregard of 

j)eals with a opposition. Descriptively, 

ivill; e. s- it represents the manner of 

Were they closing or limiting; e. g. 
to do it, we C. They should be ban- 
ought to use ished ; i.e. I think, irrespect- 
force with ive of your opinion, that 
them. they should be pushed off, 
as I push my hand from me. 

h. O. Ft. h. C. 

threate n s Closes the mind to influ- 
with force ences from above, to he 
greater guarded against; or refers 
than one's to any conceived of as, in 
own. Mov- themselves, overwhelming 
ing up or or irresistible; i. e. to 
down, it de- storms, avalanches, fate, 
scribes fore- laws of universe, God as a 
\h\Qpushi}ig force. DescrijMvely , it de- 
up or tear- lineates outlines of objects 
ing down, above one. Used in the 
It is often benediction, it imparts con- 
used thus. straining grace. 

w. O. Ft. w. C. at breast level; 

or shak- 1. w. C. at liip level; f. 

en. Shaken C, bk. C, etc. Ending 

at some per- like a simple C. gesture, it 

son or thing shuts off appeal, repressing 

in the act or repelling those about, 

of threaten- With the hand moving 

ing. Some- outward, it expresses oj^j^o- 

timesisused sition, aversion, rejection, 

descriptive- disdain, and refers to foes; 

ly to repre- moving inward, or held in 

sent what is front of breast, it wards or 

clasped or 2^^otects self, shows self- 

held, either consideration or self-asser- 

in enmity or tion. Descriptivelg,itisth.e 

friendship, most appropriate gesture 

in pain or in by which to delineate out- 

pleasure, in lines of any kind, but refers 

resolute de- especially to anything im- 

termination peded in itself, or appearing 

<^ weakness . threatening or lowering . 



C. Finger. C Fist. 



1. C. F. or 
C. F. 

Intellectu- 
al, analytical 
form of the 
C. gesture; 
closes out spe- 
cific divisions 
or aspects of a 
subject; e. g. 
Just here is 
the limit. 

h. C. F. or 
h. F. 

The usual 
high F. ges- 
ture by which 
one pioints to 
specific ob- 
jects describ- 
ed; or refers 
to influences 
that can con- 
trol or may 
injure one. 
The warning 
gesture. 

C. F. or F. 

at s. , on br. , 

etc. The or- 
dinary finger 
gesture,hj us- 
ing which, in 
reference or 
description, a 
man points to 
surrounding 
objects or to 
himself. Held 
up and out 
in front, and 
shaken, ^Za^/- 
fidly ivarns. 

Pointing to 
the breast re- 
fers to obli- 
gation, heart, 
love, soul, etc. 



1. C. Ft. 

Willful, 
forcible ; 
shuts offap- 
peal with a 
ivill,a,nd us- 
ually {with a 
wave move- 
ment) de- 
scriptive. 

I could 
tear it to 
tatters. 

h. C. Ft. 

refers to, or 
describes, 
something 
ahoye, forc- 
ibly held; 
or, if an ob- 
stacle, torn 
(7o?<;w, repre- 
sented by 
the down- 
ward move- 
ment of the 
hands. 

w. C. Ft. 

Mainly used 
in referring 
to, or de- 
scribing, 
anything 
forci b ly 
held or re- 
moved; e.g. 
in telling of 
the reins of 
a supposed 
span of 
horses when 
describing a 
ride ; or the 
rending of 
a curtain 
which one 



to tear. 



136 



orator's manual. 



Forms of the Opening Gestures. 



Preparatory Movements. 

176. Perpendicular, i. e. 
straig-lit up and aovvn. 

Starting' with hand in nor- 
mal position when dropped at 
side, do following- things suc- 
cessively: Bendjingers toivard 
palm; turn jKihn toward audi- 
ence; bend ivrist toward elbow; 
bend elbow toward shoulder; 
lift arm from shoulder and 
return it to where the elbow 
will be in i^osition for the end 
of the gesture; bend elboiv to 
bring forearm into position /or 
the stroke of the gesture; then 
bend down ivrist, at same time 
throwing out thumb and fin- 
gers. In this way the backs of 
fingers, which in opening ges- 
tures give the visible blow, 
seem to strike from the great- 
est possible distance. 

Horizontal or Wave, i. e. 
a circular or straight move- 
ment across the body; often 
used for grace or variety with 
1. O., h. O., front O., back 
O., s. O., and always with 
w. O. 

Starting with hand in nor- 
mal position when dropped at 
side, with palm toward body, 
bend fingers toward palm; 
bend elboiv, bringing forearm 
and hand, with fingers curled, 
across the body ; then, if mak- 
ing a simple gesture, move 
to the position for the stroke of 
the gesture, first, elboiv, then 
forearm, and last, ivrist, thumb 
Sind fngers; but if making 
a wave gesture, after bring- 
ing hand as high and far one 
side of shoulder as the stroke 
of gesture is to carry it the other 
side, first, while in front of 
body, throiv ivrist, thumb and 
fingers into position, then move 
(ContiniK 



End of Gesture. 

177. To answer requirements of 
beauty, the elbow, wrist and fingers, 
at end of gesture, should together 
form a conqjound curve, not a simple 
curve nor a straight line. 

To answer requirements of 
strength, the muscles of elbow, 
wrist and fingers, forming this com- 
pound curve, should be tense, not 
limp, and seem to Jiave struck a stt'ong 
blow with backs of fingers. 

liOw Opening, 1. O. Elbow very 
slightly bent, about lour inches to one 
side, and also in front of hip; wrist 
well down, with palm visible to 
audience; thumb up and out from 
palm, but not held stiffly; fingers 
almost touching each other, the first 
pointing to the floor, the others very 
slightly curled. 

Low O. Finger, 1. O. F. orl. F., 
usually 1. f. F. Finger, elbow and 
wrist bent as in 1. O. ; the first fin- 
ger pointing straight to floor, vnth 
its side to audience; the other fingers 
curled as much as possible, with the 
thumb bent in at all its joints and 
folded over the curled fingers. 

Low O. Fist, 1. O. Ft. Elbow 
bent as in 1. O. ; wrist bent toward 
elbow, thumb and fingers clasped 
and knuckles up. Do not make a 
iveak fist. 

High Opening, h. O. Elbow 
bent and wrist well down, as in 1. O. ; 
the first finger pointing horizontally; 
the backs of the others on a line level 
with it, striking the air below them; 
but the thumb held up so the palm 
will be visible to audience. 

High O. Finger, h. O. F. Elbow 
more bent, the forefinger pointing 
straight up, the others curled firmly 
against the palm, the knuckles to 
audience nnd the thumb out. 

High O. Fist, h. O. Ft. Same as 
h. O. F., with the first finger and 
thumb bent in at every joint. 
hI on page 138.) 



OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 





KoB prep 





138 



ORATOR'S MAKUAL. 



the hand back across the hodi/ 
to the side in a very free, gen- 
erous arch, on a line exactly 
parallel to the floor, cutting 
the air with the side of the first 
finger, which points toward 
the floor, and constantly/ chang- 
ing the elbow and tvrist angles 
till the gesture ends at the 
side of body. 

In preparing for O. gestures 
with both hands, B. O., 
the little fingers of the two 
hands frequentlj' touch, but it 
is not customary to have them 
cross each other. 



Middle, m. O. , F. or Ft. Gesture 

at V)ieast level. 

Wave, Side, Front, Back 
Opening, w. O. , s. O. , f. O. , bk. O. 

Same as high O., with the wrist 
bent down more and first finger 
pointing more directly to the floor. 
In bk. O. the fingers sometimes point 
outward, with all their fronts visible 
to audience. 

Side 9* Finger, s. F. Same as 
s. O., with first finger pointing, its 
side uppermost, and thumb folded 
over other fingers. When forcibly 
made, the arm may be straight at 
elbow. 

Side O. Fist, s. O. Ft. Elbow 
bent, wrist, palm and knuckles up. 



Forms op the Closing Gestures. 

Preparatory Movements. End of Gesture. 

178. Perpendicular, i. e. 179. To be graceful, the elbow, 

straight up and down. wrist, thumb and fingers, at end of 

Starting with hand in nor- gesture, should form a compound 

mal position when dropped at curve, not a simple curve nor straight 

side, do following things sue- line. So in 1. C. and w. C. the elhoiv 

cessively: Turn knuckles, y^iih is straightened. 

fingers curled on palm, toward To seem strong, the muscles form- 

audience; lift straight arm ing this compound curve should be 

toward audience till at angle tense, 7\ot limp, and ajJ^ear to have 

of forty-five degrees from body; struck a vigorous blow ; in 1. C. and 

then bend elbow up and wrist "w. C. partly with the outside edge of 

doum, hiding palm from audi- little finger, and partly with tips of 

ence, carrying forearm up high all the fingers ; in h. C. or h. F. with 

enough to begin to descend for either the fronts or backs of the fin- 

the end of gesture; then, as it gers. 

descends, throw ivrist up and Low Closing, 1. C. or C. Arm 

fingers 2indi thumb into -^o&iixon straight, elbow unbent, wrist about 

for the end of gesture. Last of eight inches to one side of the body, 

all, in 1. C. or s. C, straighten bent up; fingers parallel to floor and 

the arm, at the same time pointing outward, straight and touch- 

turning the ivrist about so that ing each other; thumb down and visi- 

the fingers shall ^^on?^ away ble to audience. 

from the body ; in h. C. , throiv Low C. Finger, 1. C. F. Usually 

wrist, fingers and thumb into in Iront, knuckles to audience, elbow 

position ivith a forward move- and wrist bent, first finger pointing 

ment of the forearm, bnt leave straight to floor, others curled in and 

the elbow still slighfh/ bent. thumb out from palm. 

Horizontal or Wave, i. e. LowC. Fist, 1. C. Ft. Same as 
(Continued on page 140.) 



OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 



139 




140 



ORATOR S MANUAL. 



a circular or straig-liu move- 
ment across the body; almost 
always used to some extent 
with 1. C, f. C, bk. C, 

s. C, and always vvilh w. C. 

Starting with the hand in 
normal position when dropped 
at side, with palm toward body 
and fingers curled, keeping 
wrist straight, hend elhoiv and 
bring hand up across the body 
{to opposite hi J) if preparing 
for a slight 1. C. or 1. w. C. , to 
opposite breast for a strong 
1. C, s. C. or w. C); 
then bending up ivrist and 
straightening fingers (point 
them parallel to floor if at hip; 
parallel to vest collar if at 
breast, i. e. in position of C. 
on br.) and dropping thumb so 
it can be seeii by audience; 
move the hand back across the 
body {diagonally downivardfor 
a 1. 0. ; straight, i. e, parallel 
to floor, for a "w. C), cutting 
the air with the edge of the 
little finger, straightening the 
arm at elboiv as soon as possi- 
ble ; and, last of all, ivith a sud- 
den turn of the wrist, throiving 
the hand into position, with 
the fingers p)ointing aivay 
from body (parallel to floor in 
1. C. and prone C, slightly 
or decidedly upward in w. C. 
or s. C). 

In preparing for C. gestures 
with both bands, B. C, 
whether at the waist or breast, 
the two hands frequeiitly cross 
each other. 



1. C, wdth fingers and thumb all 

folded in as much as possible. 

Hig-h Closing, h. C. Elbow for- 
ward trom body, on a level with 
shoulder, though to one side of it, and 
bent; wa-i^t forward from elbow, and, 
as seen by audience, just above it; 
full hand to audience, with fingers 
pointing straight up and thumb out 
to one side of palm. 

Hig-hC. Finger, h. C. F.orb. F. 
Same as h. C, with all fingers but 
the first pressetl firmly against palm. 

High C. Fist, h. C. Ft. Same 
as b. C, with fingers and thumb all 
folded in as much as possible. 

Middle, m. C. Gesture at breast 
leve] . 

Wave Closing, w. C. Including 
breast C, front C, side C, 
m. C, bk. C. 

Breast Closing, br. C. Elbow 
bent, forearm parallel to floor; thumb 
pointing away from elbow and visi- 
ble to audience: fingers straight, to- 
gether and parallel to vest collar, and 
edge of little finger to audience. 

Front, f. C. The same, with elbow 
slightly bent, and palm and all fingers 
and thumb visible to audience. 

Side, s. C. Similar, but with arm 
straight and only side of first finger 
and thumb visible to audience, palm 
outward. 

Breast, br. C. F. Same as br. C. , 
wHth all fingers but first folded on 
palm. 

Middle, m. or s. C. F. Same as 
br. C. F., with wrist unbent and F. 
pointing outward. 

Wave, w. C. Ft. Same as w. C. , 
with fingers and thumb all folded 
together. 



^^ The student who will learn to apply the above directions will 
be able to make, in the best way, all the gestures that he will be apt 
to need in ordinary Oratory. Besides this, as soon as he has mas- 
tered the system he will find that it admits of almost any amount of 
variety, — in fact, that all gestures, even the most dramatic, are 
merely modifications of these, made more angular or circular (§§ 184, 
186) to suit the sentiment. 



OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 



141 




11 





142 orator's :^iaxual. 

180. Preparation for the Gesture. It is often 
more important to move the arms rightly when preparing 
for a gesture, and in passing from one gesture to another, 
than to have the arm and hand in a right position when the 
gesture closes. 

181. Reasons. In gestures referring to surrounding objects or 
describing them, there is more meaning in the preparatory move- 
ments than in the close. Hence the necessity of having these move- 
ments slow, in order that their significance may be clearly perceived. 

a. The eyes of the audience often dwell longer on the move- 
ments of preparation than on the close. Hence the necessity, 
especially in cases where, as instanced under the last head, these 
movements must be slow, of having the arms move freely through 
wide and large arches. Otherwise there will be httle gracefulness in 
their appearance. 

b. The after-effects of a gesture are poiverful in the degree in 
which the end of the stroke is given with rcqndity and from a dis- 
tance. The first of these effects cannot be produced except by way 
of contnv"" with previous slow movements, nor the second except at 
the end of movements made through long arches. Hence both of 
these conditions, previously mentioned, are demanded by the require- 
ments of strength. 

182. Significant, graceful and strong effects in the 
movements preparatory for gestures result in the degree in 
which these are made slowly and describe long arches. 

In preparing for a gesture, therefore, one should begin some 
seconds before the time for the stroke, fit the movement of the arm 
to the phrase that follows, and not exhaust this movement before 
reaching the word at which the gesture closes. Even in a merely 
emphatic gesture in which there is no attempt at description, and no 
matter how rapidly the tvords may he flowing, one should raise his 
arm slowly, as if taking aim like a skillful boxer, and thus give the 
stroke when the time comes in such a way as to make it effective. A 
gesture given in this manner is more apt than any other to have 
meaning and grace, and, above all, to convey that impression of 
self-control which is so important in the manner of an orator. A 
man may appear, and if eloquent will appear, to be full of emotion; 
but this will not influence others much unless it appears to be a 
rational, regulated emotion, held well in hand and directed wisely. 



OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 143 

As a rule, no man can control an audience icho does not show that he 
can control himself. 

183. Size of Gesture Movements. These should 
differ according to the different degrees and kinds of em- 
phasis that they are intended to represent. 

a. It is necessary to notice only two general tendencies of 
thought to which this principle is applicable. 

184. Because in the degree in which thought is conceived of as 
about or above one, the hands move about or above the body — 

a. The grander and loftier, the more compyehensive 
and elevating, the nature of the thought to be emphasized, 
the ivider and highe?^ will be the siveep of the arms in pre- 
paring for a gesture, and this fact will also determine their 
position at its close; e. g. 

In the degree in which an orator becomes interested in a sub- 
ject or audience, considering it or them as of greater scope or size, 
importance or dignity, the Opening Gesture, which at first is made 
only with a straight upward and downward movement of prepara- 
tion, and ends low down at the side, is made with a circular move- 
ment of preparation across the waist, and ends higher up and farther 
out from the body. 

185. We must be careful not to emphasize s^nall ideas with 
grand gestures. If we do, the appearance of incongruity between 
the thing and the thing signified may produce laughter; or, to state 
the principle differently, 

a. Exaggerated Preparatory Movements are 

used to give a ludicrous or sarcastic effect to the emphasis of 
a gesture. {See § 209:4.) 

186. Because, in the degree in which an interest in outward ob- 
jects, such as causes one to dwell upon them descriptively, is slight, 
the roundabout movements, or the wave in connection with the up- 
ward and downward movements, is slight — 

a. The sharper, the more passionate, the nature 
of the thought to be emphasized, the more straight and 
angular will be the movement of the arms in preparing for 
a gesture, and their position at its close ; e. g. 



144 orator's manual. 

The closing gesture made with a circular movement, and ending 
with the wrist only slightly hent upward, represses; e. g. 

No, no, darling; don't do that. 

^wt jjushed straight, with the wrist hent sharply upward, as is 
necessary in order to complete the idea of pushing, it repels; e. g. 

Away, base fiend! 

187. The Return of the Gesture. The hand 
should be kept in position a moment after the stroke of the 
gesture, then ordinarily allowed to fall easily and naturally 
to the side; hut the stronger, the more sustamed diUdi persist- 
ent, the nature of the thought to be emphasized, the more 
tendency there will be to make a comhination or series of 
gestures. 

a. Single gestures can represent emotion that is spasmodic only. 
It is by repeated and accumulated emphasis that the most power- 
ful effects are produced, both in elocution and gesticulation. 

188. The following com'bined gestures need to be mentioned: 
a. The Opening Shake Gesture. In this, after the stroke, 

the elbow is moved rapidly backward and forward, and the wrist, 
at the same time, is bent and unbent, describing with the hand an 
arc smaller and smaller, till the shake closes with the arm and hand 
in the same position as that in which it began. It is used where it 
seems necessary to emphasize vigorously a whole phrase, rather than 
a single word; e. g. 

Who distinctly and audaciously tells the Irish people that they 
are not entitled to the same privileges as Englishmen ? 

Avoid the faults of moving the elbow and not the ivrist, and 
moving the ivrist and not the elhow. 

189. After the stroke of the ojpening gesture, the hand, instead 
of remaining in position, sometimes has a tendency to rebound. 
When the emphasis is strong, it is well to indulge this tendency, and 
give form to it in the 

Opening Snatch Gesture. In this the hand, immediately 
after the stroke, is snatched away, and across the body, to form 
a fist resting on the opposite waist or chest; or else, if a gesture of 
inspiration, snatched straight up, to form an opening high finger 
gesture. 

Avoid the fault of not making an unmistakahle opening gesture 
hefore snatching up the hand. 



OBJECTIVE GESTUKES. 145 

190. Closing Shake Gesture. In this the hand, after the 
stroke, continues to move up and down from the wrist, either with 
increasing or lessening rapidity. Like the Opening Shake, it is used 
where it seems necessary to emphasize vigorously a whole phrase, 
rather than a single word. 

191. Closing" Shuffle Gesture, in which the hand, after the 
stroke, continues to move from side to side at the wrist. It has a 
meaning similar to that of the Shake Gesture; but, because it is 
much more distinctly visible to an audience, it is much more fre- 
quently used. 

In the following passage, a slow shuffle, with the downward 
gesture, would be appropriate : 

. . . Not of subjection and slavery; not of agony and distress; 
but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. 

In the following, a rapid, high shuffle, with the upward gesture: 
They offer us protection; yes, such protection as vultures give 

to lambs, — covering and devouring them. 

a. Opening Shuffle and Closing Snatch Gestures are also used. 

In general, the principle under consideration leads to the fol- 
lowing : 

192. Make a Series of Gestures, if it be necessary to gest- 
ure at all. Do not stop with a single one. 

Hence the necessity of learning how to make a series of gestures 
that shall all be appropriate, and yet have variety; and how to pass 
from one to another with movements of preparation that shall be at 
once significant, graceful and strong. The following exercises (or 
better, perhaps — because it will save the student extra work — the 
order of the gestures, in § 201) will suggest the manner of passing 
from one gesture to another. The stroke of the gesture in each case 
precedes the ( . . ). After the stroke has been made, hold the hand 
still for a moment, then pass to the next gesture. 

1. Practice the first of the following with the Right, then with 
the Left, then with Both hands : 

FIRST. 

Low . . wave low^ to front low 0, then to low side 
. , wave to breast 0, then to breast level or middle side 
. . to high . . to low 0, and snatch to C Ft on opposite 
7 



1-46 orator's manual. 

waist . . wave to low . . to front low . . to low . . 
to low side . . turn to C, at the same time bringing the 
hand forward, with arm straight, and wave to back C . . 
shuffle C . . high C . . wave high C to front and side . . 
to high C and shuffle . . drop till below the level of the 
face, then wave to breast C . . wave to side front, and lift 
to high C . . drop to C front middle and prone . . wave to 
breast C . . wave downward to low C . . lift to breast C 
. . wave to low back C Ft . . to low back C. 

SECOND. 

Front F pointing down . . repeat the same gesture 
. . wave to low . . to side . . to C F pointing up on 
the breast . . to C F pointing at side . . to C F pointing 
up on the breast . . change to C and wave to front C . . to 
side C . . lift to high C . . change to h C F . . wave to side 
C F . . wave to low front F pointing down . . wave to 
low . . stroke 1 and snatch to high F (knuckles out) . . 
change to high . . low . . wave low . . stroke low 
and snatch to C Ft on opposite waist . . wave to Ft low . . 
Ft high . . low . . stroke low and snatch to C Ft on 
opposite waist . . change to C and wave to low side C . . 
lift C at side to high C . . change to high C F, and shuffle 
or shake it . . change to C, and, keeping wrist bent up and 
arm straight, drop .high C at side slowly to low side C. 

In the selections (§§ 211-219) will be found a large number of 
declamations, in which appropriate (not the only admissible) gestures 
are marked. By studying them, the student will learn how these 
gestures and their preparatory movements may be fitted to the sense. 

THE COUNTENANCE. 

193. In ordinary Oratory the expression of this should not 
change greatly, but in connection with the dramatic gestures men- 
tioned below it may change to any extent- 



THE COUXTEXA^^CE. 147 

It does not fall within the province of this work to treat this 
subject exhaustively. It is sufficient merely to notice that, in gen- 
eral, the same principles apply here as to the gestures with the hands 
and arms; e. g. 

An upward movement of the eyes or muscles of the face (as 
in the elevated forehead and brow^) refers to what is conceived of 
as above one, in the sense explained in § 170 ; a downward move- 
ment of the same (as in ihQ frown or the protruding chin) refers 
to what is conceived of as under or heJow one; and a movement 
to the side, or sides (as in the smde and cry), to what is beside one or 
relative. To be more specific : 

194. The eye represents that tvhich one has hi view; i. e. the 
tendency or direction of thougJd, which, as has been said, may be 
upward, as in adoration; dotcnward, as in sullenness; or sideward, 
as in attention. In Of atory, the audience is the chief object of 
consideration, and likes to be so treated; therefore, in public ad- 
dress, — especially before juries, — one should never forget that the 
eye can do more than anything else, perhaps, to hold the attention 
of those upon whom it gazes. It should not often be turned away 
from them, — not to thefoor, e. g., in the bow, nor to the hand in the 
gesture. In the degree, however, in which Oratory becomes acting, 
one's glance may be directed toward any object of thought per- 
ceived, or conceived of, as above, about or under one. 

Besides this, it may be added that the eyes burn in anger, tveep 
m sorrow, and have a vacant look in deep thought, introspection, in- 
diflerence to outward sights, etc. (For additional suggestions, see 
Chart of Dramatic Gestures, § 200.) 

195. The forehead, eyelDrows, eyelids, and muscles of the 
cheeks surrounding the eye, indicate the character, kind or quality 
of the impressions that the mind has with reference to the objects 
toward which the eye is directed. They act in connection with the 
eye somewhat as the fingers in different gestures do in connection 
with the movements of the hands and arms. When all the mus- 
cles surrounding the eye seem relaxed, and the ej'elids droop, they 
indicate, — as in the case of the hands falling at the sides, — indiffer- 
ence or languor. When they all seem to be drawn away from the 
eye, as if aiding to open it, they emphasize, like the opening gest- 
ure, a desire to receive or impa7i.; they exaggerate the act of atten- 
tion, and indicate, in various degrees, interest, surprise, admiration, 
hope, joy. When, in connection with such movements, the muscles 
of the forehead seem to be influenced only by an upward movement 
they refer to something conceived of as above one. When, while 
the forehead in general is elevated, the brows are slightly drawn 
down and knit together, they indicate, like the downward gesture 
with the opening fist, force and authority, with the conception of 
an ability to master exercised upon that to which attention is directed. 
When, in connection with the expanding of the muscles about the 
eye and the upward tendency of the forehead, the latter is, neverthe- 
less, folded together vertically, as if to close out, rather than receive, 
the _ influences of that to which attention is directed, the effect 
is like that of the upward closing gesture, indicating a desire to 



148 orator's manual. 

shut out or repress what is unpleasant or causes anxiety, grief or de- 
spondency. When, in addition to the folding of the forehead, the 
eyebrows are drawn down and knit together, they indicate, like the 
downward gesture with the closing, repellant hand [see §§ 175. 186) 
or the closing fist, a desire to oppose the Jiostilc irtfluence, as well as 
the feeling, also, that one has the ability to do so; i. e. indignation 
or anger. 

196. The movement of the muscles of the nose, when 
" drawn up," as is said, seems to derive its significance chiefly 
from its relations to the eye, that, in connection with it, is always 
directed toward the object concerning which is conceived a simple 
feeling of rejndsion or a decided feeling of disgust and contempt. 
It may be said, therefore, to correspond to the relative (i. e. to the 
front or side closing) gesture. 

a. As for the nostrils, it will be noticed- that they open, as do 
the muscles about the eye, to express interest, surprise, admiration, 
hope, joy, — very forcibly so to express ptide, exaltation, or a sense 
of mastery; and that they close to express anxiety, grief, desp)ond- 
ency ; and at times rigidly so to express indignation and anger. 

197. The lips and mouth., in indifference, iveahness and irreso- 
lution, are relaxed, a state corresponding to that of the hands when 
dropped at the side. Corresponding to various positions of the 
opening and closing gestures, we find that in eager listening the 
mouth is almost always open, and in resohde determination, closed. 
In siuyrise, as though in view of something above one, the lips are 
slightly opened, — the upper and under teeth are apart, — the middle 
of the upper lip is lifted a little, but without any rigidity of the 
muscles; while, to give efi"ect to this position, the lower lip, with 
the jaw and chin, are drawn backward and inward (.upward open- 
ing gesture). Notice this position, as intensified in the exclamation 
" Whew ! " In energy and decision, combined with a feeling of 
mastery, the upper and under teeth are partly or wholly brought 
together, the upper lip is pressed firmly down upon the under, 
which, with the under jaw, is thrust forward (the downward fist 
gesture). In laughter, which is always relcdive, the lips are lifted 
at the side corners, and the mouth opened horizontally (opening 
side). On the other hand, m apprehension, fear, grief, resulting, of 
course, when one is under the influence of something that he can- 
not master, the middle of the lips are lifted, while, giving effect to 
this, the sides are drawn down rigidly (as though repressing or re- 
pelling, as in the upward closing gesture), and the lower lip and 
chin held back and in. In agony, the lips are compressed, indicat- 
ing more effort of the will in j-esistance ; and in anger and malice, 
the upper lip is pressed upon the lower, which, with the chin, is 
thrust forward (downward closing or fist closing gesture). In disgust 
and contempt, the chin is also thrust forward, with the lips curled 
downward in the former (repressing closing, § 186) and curled up- 
ward in the latter (repellant closing, § 186). In crying, which, like 
laughter, is relative, the mouth is opened horizontally, with the lips 
drawn rigidly to either side (side closing wave). In pouting, they 
are thrust up and out in front (front closing). 



SUBJECTIVE GESTURES. 149 

i98. In the countenance, as elsewhere, comic effects are pro- 
duced by a combination of extravagance and incongruity; the lat- 
ter, e. g., from having one portion of the face represent one set of 
emotions and another portion another set, or from having the 
whole countenance represent emotions diametrically the opposite of 
those that the circumstances warrant. 

SUBJECTIVE GESTURES. 

199. Subjective Gestlires, as explained (§ 163), differ 
from Objective gestures, to which, mainly, the movements in 
ordinary Oratory are confined, in that, instead of being in- 
tended to represent the relation of a subject to the hearers, 
they represent its relation to the speaker. For instance, a 
man lifts his hands above his head, throwing them out in 
the direction of the audience, because he conceives that the 
subject of which he is speaking is a grand one, and should 
appeal to others as a grand one. He lifts himself — his 
head, trunk, etc. — either in connection with his hands or 
not, because he feels the effect of its grandeur on himself, 
or feels himself equal to the demand that there is for dis- 
cussing it. 

In making these gestures, all the parts of the body are 
usually more or less enlisted, and the direction of the move- 
ments (of the hands, e. g.) is usually from the audience 
toward the speaker. 

200. As the main object in all speaking, even when en- 
deavoring to show the relation of a subject to the speaker, 
is to impress others, these Subjective gestures are almost 
always combined, necessarily, with Objective ones. 

The following chart will indicate sufficiently for the purpose of 
this book the different attitudes and movements appropriate for the 
ideas that one is most frequently called upon to represent through 
the use of these gestures. The principles underlying the chart, aside 
from those already explained, are that the head represents mental; 
the hreast, moral or emotional; the loiver^ trunk, physical; and the 
legs, like the arms (§§ 183, 186), determinative or voUtive conceptiong. 



150 



ORATOR S MANUAL. 






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SELEOTIOI^S FOE DECLAMATION. 

201. Before attempting to declaim, students should understand 
the following principles, and be able to apply them. 

Elementary Principles of Time, Pitch and Force. 
In the degree in which ideas expressed are serious, grave, 
dignified and self-determined, time is slow, pitch, low, 
and force full (§§ 140-145). In the degree in which ideas 
are light, gay, lively and uncontrolled, time is fast, pitch 
high, and force slight. 

In ordinary Oratory, time is much slower, pitch about 
the same, and force much greater, than in conversation 
(§ 146). 

Time is slower in all passages (§ 40), and the voice 
pauses in uttering all words (§ 35), that introduce into the 
general sense special importance, information or peculiarity. 

Time is faster in all passages, and the voice slights 
all words, expressing what is insignificant, known, acknowl- 
edged or repetitious in statement or sequence. 

^^^ Marks of punctuation do not always accompany no^ 
indicate places for elocutionary pauses (§ 35). 

Pitch. Falling Inflections (for decisive or positive 
ideas) are used with those words before pauses which posi- 
tively affirm a fact, principle or belief, or emphatically 
point out an object or idea (in the speaker's opinion) impor- 
tant in itself, irrespective of further consideration. The 
Falling Inflection closes the sense (directing attention 
toward what has been said), as the period closes the sentence 
(§§ 43, 50, etc.). 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 153 

Rising Inflections (for indecisive, negative, doubtful 
ideas) are used with words that express ideas in open con- 
trast with positive ideas (and, in this sense, negative), or 
ideas whose importance, interest or certainty depends on 
something expressed in another part of the sentence or pas- 
sage; hence, any ideas repeated, trite, acknowledged or 
insignificant, and most negative, conditional and interroga- 
tive clauses. But "not" and "if" are sometimes used to 
express positive ideas or facts, e. g. Thou shalt not steal — 
If ye know these things (as you do), etc. And a cjues- 
tion may contain a statement equally positive, e. g. Isn't 
she beautiful? (§§ 43, 49-51). 

Double or Circumflex Inflections (moving in two 
directions) emphasize ideas of double reference or meaning ; 
hence all important words used in comparison or contrast 
with something else (i. e. in illustration or antithesis), or 
in doubtful, insincere, sarcastic, ironical expressions. The 
circumflex ends, according as the main sense demands, down- 
ward A or upward V (§§ 69-74). 

When several words together all express the same general 
idea, only the last word receives the appropriate falling or 
rising inflection; e.g. Subjection and slavery (§§ 65, 66). 
Falling Inflections start Mgher than the general pitch, 
and rising inflections lower, except at the end of a para- 
graph, or for variety (§§ 75-77). 

Force. As a rule, more force is always used with 
words emphasized by pauses and inflections, and upon the 
last word of each sentence (§ 98). 

202. Meaning of the Marks of Emphasis (§§ 29, 30) : 

Pauses: short/ long// /// Time: fast, mod. [ersite], slow. 

Quantity is sufficiently indicated usually by the pauses. 

Inflections: upward ' downward '' upward circumflex ~ >-' 
downward circumflex ^ , downward started high *« , 



154 orator's manual. 

Pitch: very high {JiJi), high (70, medium (m), low (l), very low 

Stress: initial >, terminal <, median <>, compound X, 
thorough XX, tremulous >'^^. 

Force (in italics) or very loud [ff), loud (/), soft {p ), very soft 

iPP)- 

Quality: pure P, orotund 0, aspirate A, guttural (x, pectoral 
Pec. 

Gestures (§§ 176-179), always marked on a line above the 
words on which they are used. 

Movement preceding the stroke of the gesture: 

*w wave, parallel to floor. *0 opening. 

tr from the side across (trans.) C closing. 

body. C prone, when fingers form 

br movement to the breast. a straight line with arm. 

s " " side. F finger. 

f " " front. Ft fist. 

bk " " hack. B both hands. 

h. *' high above head. R right hand. 

m " middle, i. e. at L left hand. 

level of breast. Where neither R nor L is used, 
1 " ?o?^', below waist. gesture with e/^Aer hand. 

For snatch, shuffle, shake, see §§ 188-191. 
Unless otherwise marked, ivaves are on a level with the breast, 
and all other gestures are low. 

203. Directions. Students should first learn the Preliminary 
Exercise, § 209. 

a. Next, until they know how to apply for themselves the prin- 
ciples underlying the marks in this exercise, they should select lor 
declamation some (and read over all) of the marked Declama- 
tions in §§ 211-226. 

tS^" For beginners, and those who do not speak with sufficient 
spirit, the first among these selections are the best. 

204. After this, with special reference to emphasis, students 
should read by themselves, or, better, before an instructor, one or 
more of the unmarked declamations that in this work imme- 
diately follow the marked ones tliat they have read or recited. 

205. As for the marks, let students remember that 
these indicate one, not the only appropriate way of deliver- 
ing any given passage; because the same phraseology may 

* For the manner of forming theee geetures, see pp. 136-140; for their mean- 
ing^ p. 134. 



6ELECTI0XS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 155 

be made to convey or make prominent different ideas, ac- 
cording to the conception or wish of the speaker. (§§ 32, 
53, 63, etc.) Let students find out why the particular em- 
phasis or gesture that is marked is appropriate, and not 
forget that unless they can gain such control of themselves 
as to deliver at will these passages as the author of this 
book conceives of their meaning, they cannot at will deliver 
them as they themselves conceive of their meaning. 

206. As a rule, in these selections, 

a. Pauses are not marked except in places where otherwise 
they might be overlooked. 

b. Upward inflections it has not been thought necessary, in 
all cases, to mark. 

c. Downward inflections are all marked; but the majority of 
these are to be given with merely a downward bend of the voice, 
starting higher than the general pitch. {See §§ 75-77.) 

207. A greater number of gestures are marked than, in an 
ordinary oration, it would be appropriate to make. The object of 
marking so many of them is to afford the pupil as much practice of 
gesticulation as possible in a given space, and also an opportunity 
of selecting from a large number of gestures those that he can use 
most readily in pubhc. 

208. Advanced pupils, by consultmg the references given in pre- 
vious sections of this work, and the captions and marks used in 
connection with the following selections, will find among the latter 
illustrations of all the different elements of emphasis considered in 
this book. 

Preliminary Exercise in Declamation. 

209. In order to understand pauses, inflections, force and gestures, let the 
student explain the marks in the following. 

In order to overcome bad habits of delivery and to begin to cultivate good 
oneB, let him practice it, till he can declaim it perfectly as marked. 

1 RO* 1 RO 

1. The war | must go on. We must fight it | through. 

bkR c 
And, if the war | must go 6n, \ why put off Idnger \ 

m RO 1 

the declaration | of independence ? That measure | will 

R O enatch to C Ft on op. waist 1 f R O 1 s R O 

strengthen us : it will give us chdracter || abrdad. if we 

*For the manner of forming these gestures, see pp. 136-140; for their meOTlr 
mg, p. 134. 



156 orator's manual. 

w to 1 8 L C 

fail, I it can be no worse \ for us. But we shall riot fail 

1 L O 1 B L 

The cause I will raise up | drmies; the cause | will create] 

O ^ ^ 1 RO 

navies. The people, \ the people, \ if we are true to them, | 
RCPup-onbr ^ wmRCtosfRC hRC 

will carry us, \ and will carry themselves, \ gloriously | 

push R C f and down 

thrdugh \ this struggle. Sir, | the declaration | will inspire | 
the people | with increased |I cdurage. Instead of a long] 

w tr to R C P on br pointing up 

and bloodij \ war \ for restoration \ of privileges, \ for re- 

front 1 RO w to 1 RO 

dress \ of grievances, | for chartered \ immunities, | held | 

h RO 

Tinder a British \ king, || set before them | the glorious \ 

h R O F turn to h R C and push 

6bject\oi entire \ independence, {sLnd it will breathe into them 

to f and lower RC 

anew \ the breath | of life. 

slowly lift R C to shoulder level R C to 

Through the thick \ gloom \ of the present \\ I see the 

h RC to hROF RCF drop 

brightness \ of the fUture, \ as the sun \ in heaven. We 

m BO w 1 tr B C 

shall make this a glorious, \ an immortal \ day. When w^\ 

to 1 s B C turn to 1 B O wide m B O 1 

are in our graves \ our children \ will hdiior it. They will 

^ BO 

celebrate it | with thanksgiving, \ with festivity, \ with hdn- 
fires I and illuminations. On its annual | retlirn | they will 

w to 1 bk B C 

shed I tears — \cdpious, \ gushing tesLYS, — not of subjection \ 

shuffle B C shuffle B C shuffle B C high 

and slavery, — | not of agony \ and distress, — | but of 

B O mid BO low BO 

exultcttion, \ of gratitude \ and of joy. 

w 1 tr RO to RO hold 

2. Tell me, | man of military | science, \ in how many 
turn and w to 1 bk R C 

m6nths | were the Pilgrims | all | swept dff \ by the thirty | 



SELECTIONS POR DECLAMATION". 157 

savage | tribes | enumerated | within the early | limits ] 

wltrLOtoLO 1 LO 

of New England? Tell me, | politician, \ how long \ did 
this I shadow | of a colony, | on which your conventions | 

w to 1 bk L C 

and treaties | had not smiled, | languish \ on the distant | 

w 1 tr B O to BO 1 BO w 1 tr B C to 1 B C 

c6ast? Student | of history,] compare for me | the baffled | 

shuffle bk B C ehuffle bk B C 

projects, I the abandoned | adventures | of dther times, | 

turn to 1 B O 

and find a parallel fl of this. 

3. Now, sir, | what was the conduct | of your 6wn \ 

R C F at side pointing 1 front R C F pointing down 

allies I to Poland? | Is there a single \ atrocitij \ of the 

repeat F down repeat F repeat F repeat F w to 

French \ in Italy, | in Switzerland, — | in Sgypt, \ if you 

IRO IRO IRO snatch to fist on op waist 

please, — | more | unprincipled \ and inhuman \ than that of 

front R C F down repeat F repeat F w to R O 

Riissia, I Austria | and Prtissia | in Poland? 

1 R O exaggerated s R O f R O ^ turn 

4. Yes; thhj will give enlightened freedom to our minds, 

to RCFuponbr wmRCtofsmRC prone stroke stroke 

who are themselves the slaves of passion, Avarice and pride! 

w R C tr to br R C w m R C to s 

They offer us their protection: yes, siich protection as vul- 

t RC h Reshuffle 1 RC 

tures give to Idmhs, — covering and devouring them! 
w to 1 bk BC 
Tell your invaders | we seek | no | change, — | and | 

^1 BO widel BO 

least of all, | such \ change | as they \ would bring us. 

Students who cannot g-ive the downward inflection may, at first, 
attempt to accent each word necessitating a downward inflection as 
if the sentence ended on it. After they have acquired facility in 
doing this they can learn to start the downward inflection, if neces- 
sary, on a higher key (§§ 75-77.) Beginners should use only the 
closing part of the circumflex, which, unless very emphatic, is not 
well given except when it is slightly given, and usually requires 
some cultivation of the voice. 



158 ORATOR'S MANUAL. 

VEHEMENT, VIGOROUS AND APPELLATOKY 
SELECTIONS. 

For obvious reasons, the extracts published in this work are none of them 
of a partisan, sectional or sectarian character r and have all been selected, on 
the principle of the survival of the fittest, from those that, in the author's own 
experience, have been found to be best adapted for the purposes for which they 
are used. 

210. In all these the predominating 

Time is slower^ Pitch slightly higher., and Tone much louder than in 
ordinary conversation. 

Force is natural, tending toward sustained (§§ 113, 114) ; explosive on very 
vehement passages, otherwise expulsive:, and 

Quality, orotund, often made aspirate to express intensity, and guttural to 
express hostility (§§ 135-137). 

211. Assertive, Positive Style ; mainly Downward In- 
flections. Predominating Terminal stress (§ 101); but on vehement 
passages, Initial (§ 100), and sometimes, on very emphatic syllables, 
not followed by others m the same word, Compound {see § 45: b, c; 
§103: a). 

1. REPLY TO MR. FLOOD, 11^^.— Henry Grattan. 

It is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame me. No 
man, who has not a had \ character, | can ever say that I deceived. 
No country can call me a cheat. But I will supjjose such a public 
character. I will suppose such a man | to have | existence. I will 
begin with his character in his political ] cradle, and I will follow 
him to the last stage of political | dissolution. I will suppose him, 

1 f R O 
in the first stage of his life, to have been intemperate ; in the second, 

1 R q s R o 

to have been corrupt; and in the last, seditious; — that, after an 

w to br m R C 
envenomed attack on the persons and measures of a succession of 

w m R C to s R C 

viceroys, and after much j declamation against th^ir illegalities and 

w tr R C to waist and w to 1 f R O 
their profusion, hh | took office, and became a supporter | of Gov- 

1 R O 

emment, when the profusion of ministers had greatly increased, and 

1 s R O 
their crimes multiplied beyond example. 

With regard to the liberties | of Ain(?rica, which were insepar- 

w br L C to 
able I from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to have been an 



SELECTI0:S"S FOR JDECLAMATIOiS'. 159 

m 8 L C ^ w tr L C to s L C 

enemy decided and unres&rved; that he voted agamst | her liberty, 

w m tr L C F to m s L C F 

and voted, moreover, for an address to send /owr | thousand \ Irish \ 
troops I to cut the throats \ of the Americans; that he called these 

1 L o ^ 
butchers ''armed | negotiators,'' and stood with a metaphor in his 

m L C 

mouth and a hrihe in his pocket, a champion against the rights of 

1 B O ^ ^ m ^ BO 

America, — of America, the onlg hope of Ireland, and the 07ili/ [ 

1 B O 

refuge of the liberies \ of mankind. Thus defective in every | rela- 
tionship, whether to constitution, commerce, or toleration, I will 

1 f R O F , y to 

suppose this man to have added much jjruate \ improbity to pub- 

1 R O 1 f R O . w 

lie I crimes; that his 7Jro&% was like his patriotism, and his honor 
1 f R C to s R C 

on a level with his oath. He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. 
I will interrupt him, and say: 

Sir, you are much mistaken if you think that your talents have 
been as great as your life has been re2Jrehensible. You began your 
parliamentary career with an acrimony and personality which could 

1 L O 
have been justified only by a supposition of virtue; after a rank and 

wLC to msLC 

clamorous opposition, you became, on a sudden, | silent; you were 

msLC msLC 

silent for secen | years; yoa were silent on the greatest questions^ 

1 L O 
and you were silent | for | money! You supported the unparalleled 

1 RO 
profusion and jobbing of Lord Harcourt's | scandalous | ministry, 

w tr 1 R O to waist ^ C 

You, Sir, who manufacture stage | thunder against Mr. Eden foi 
Ft 1 R O ^ 

his I anti- American principles, — you, sir, whom it pleases to chant 

m R O 1 R O 

a hymn to the immortal Hampden; — yoa, sir, approved of the 
tyranny exercised against America, — and you, sir, voted four \ 
shake 1 B O ^ f B Ft 

thousand \ Irish troops to cut the throats of the Arr ericans fighting 

wide .BO f B O 

for their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great | 

wide m BO 
p>^T1ciDl^, !| libe^y! But you found, at last, that the Court had 

msLC w tr LC 

bought, but would not trust you. Mortified at the discovery, you try 



160 orator's manual. 

to waist L C w L O to 

the sorry game of a trimmer in your progress to the acts of an 
L O 

inct'iiUiary; and observing, with regard to Prince and People, the 

R ^ O snatch to C ^ Ft on 
most impartial | treacheri/ and desertion, you just ijtj the suspicion of 
waist w m R C to ■ f ^s R C w s R C 

your Sovereign by letrdtjing the Government, as you had sold the 
People. Such has been your conduct, and at such conduct every 

1 R O ^ f 

order of your fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim! The m6r- 
1 R O ^ IRQ 

chant may say to you, the constitutionalist may say to you, the 
sRO fROy wto fhsRC 

American may say to you, — and I, t now say, and say to your heard, 

w s R c 
sir, — you are ndt an honest \ man! 

2. REPLY TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON.— iortZ Thurlow. 

I am amazed at the attack which the noble Duke has 
made on me. Yes, my Lords, I am amazed at his Grace's 
speech. The noble Duke cannot look before him, behind 
him, or on either side of him, without seeing some noble 
Peer who owes his seat in this House to his successful exer- 
tions in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel 
that it is as honorable to owe it to these, as to being the 
accident of an accident? To all these noble Lords the lan- 
guage of the noble Duke is as applicable, and as insulting, as 
it is to myself. But I do not fear to meet it single and alone. 

No one venerates the Peerage more than I do; but, my 
Lords, I must say that the Peerage solicited we, — not I the 
Peerage. Nay, more, — I can say, and tvill say, that, as a 
Peer of Parliament, as Speaker of this right honorable 
House, as keeper of the great seal, as guardian of his 
Majesty's conscience, as Lord High Chancellor of England, — 
nay, even in that character alone in which the noble Duke 
would think it an affront to be considered, but which char- 
acter none can deny me, as a man, — I am at this moment 
as resj^ectable, — I beg leave to add, I am as much respected, 
c*i the proudest Peer I now look down u\jkju } 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOi^. 161 



3. PARLIAMENTARY BEFOHM^ISSI.— Lord Brougham. 

My Lords, I do not disguise | the intense \ solicitude which I feel 
for the event of this debate, because I know full well that the i^eace 
of the country is involved in the issue. I cannot look without dis- 
may at the rejection of this measure of Parliamentary Reform. But, 
grievous as may be the consequences of a temporary defeat, t^mpo- 

1 R O 
rary it can only be; for its ultimate, and even sjjeedy success, is cer- 

w m s R C w 1 

tain. Nothing can now stdp it. Do not suflPer yourselves to be 

BO mbrBCwto fBC and to m 

persuaded that, even if the present ]\Iinisters were driven from the 

^sBC w trBCto 

helm, any one could steer you through the troubles which surround 

1 sBC^ 
you, tvithout \ reform. But our successors would take up the task in 

1 L O 
circumstances far less auspicious. Under them, you would be fain 
to grant a bill, compared with which, the one we now proffer you is 
1 R O 1 R O 1 f R O w to 

moderate \ indeed. Hear the parable of the Sibyl, for it conveys a 

1 R O 
wise and wholesome moral. She now appears at your gate, and 
offers you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes — of wisdom 
and p^ace. The price she asks is reasonable; to restore the frdn- 

w 
cJiise, which, without any bargain, you ought voluntarily \ to give. 

mRCtosRC msRC ms 

You refuse her terms — her moderate terms; — she darkens the porch 
R C prone vf 

no longer. But soon — for you cannot do without \ her wares — you 

1 s R O 1 R O down 

call her hack. Again she comes, but with diminished \ treasures; 
1 R O snatch to R C Ft to br 

the leaves of the book are in part torn away by lawless hands, in 
w 1 R C .to s R C 

part defaced with characters of blood. But the prophetic maid has 

1 f BO 
risen in her demands; — it is Parliaments by the Year — it is Vote 
1 BO wide BO mtr and 

hy i\\Q Ballot — it is suffrage by the million! From this you turn 
m 8 R C ^ w msRC h R C P 

away indignant; and, for the second time, she departs. Beware 

shake ^ IfROFfRO wtol 

of her third coming! for the treasure you must \ have; and what 
R ^O IRQ 1 

jprice she may next demand, who | shall t^U? It may even be the 
7* 



162 orator's manual. 

B R O 

mace which rests upon that woolsack! What may follow \ your 
course of obstinacy, if persisted in, I cannot take upon me to pre- 

1 f L O 1 L o 

diet, nor do T wish to conjecture. But this I know full well; that, 
as sure as man is mortal, and to err is human, justice \ deferred | 
enhances the price \ at which you must purchase safety and peace; — 

1 f R o 
nor can you expect to gather in another \ crop | than they did who 
8 R O ^ 

went before you, if you persevere in their utterly ahominable \ hus- 
w 1 R C to s R C snatch tr and 1 R O 

handry, of sowing \ injustice and reaping \ rebellion. 

But, among the awful considerations that now bow down my 
mind, there is dne that stands preeminent above the rfest. You are 

IRQ _ 1 f R O 1 f 

the highest {judicature in the r^alm; you sit here as judges, and 
ROF wlsRC^ 

decide all causes, civil and criminal, without appeal. It is a judge's | 
first I duty never to pronounce a sentence, in the most trifling case, 

f BO 1 B O 

without hearing. Will you make this the exception ? Are you really 

1 BO wms BC 

prepared to determine, but not to hear, the mighty cause, upon which 

1 B O h E C 

a nation's hopes and fears | hang? You are ? Then beivdre of your 

1 E 6 Ft 
decision! Rouse \ not, I beseech you, a peace-loving but a resolute 

w m B ^ 

people! Alienate not from your body the affections of a whole \ Em- 
C ^ 1 f R O 1 

pire! As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of my 
R O m 8 R O 

country, as the faithful | servant of my sovereign, I counsel you to 

1 L o 
assist, with your uttermost Efforts, m preserving the peace, and uphold- 
m L O m 

ing and perpetuating the Constitution. Therefore, I pray and exhort 

8 R C ^ 1 f R p 

you not to reject \ this measure. By all you hold most dear, by all 

1 R O 
the ties that bind every one of us to our common | order and our 

s^RO fRO hRC hRC 

common | country, I solemnly adjiire you, I warn you, I implore 

tr R C to br w m s R C ^ 

you, — yea, on my bended knees I supplicate you, — reject \ ndt \ this 
Ull! 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATION. 163 

4. ON THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL. - Daniel 0' ConnelL 

I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this House; — I do not 
rise to supplicate you to be merciful toward the nation to 
which I belong, — toward a nation which, though subject to 
England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct nation: it 
has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved 
by history, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call 
upon this House, as you value the liberty of England, not to 
allow the present nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved 
the liberties of England, the liberty of the Press, and of 
every other institution dear to Englishmen. Against the 
bill I protest, in the name of the Irish People, and in the face 
of Heaven. I treat with scorn the puny and pitiful asser- 
tion that grievances are not to be complained of, — that our 
redress is not to be agitated; for, in such cases, remon- 
strances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot be too vio- 
lent, to show to the world with what injustice our fair 
claims are met, and under what tyranny the people suifer. 

The clause which does away with trial by jury, — what, 
in the name of Heaven, is it, if it is not the establishment of 
a revolutionary tribunal? It drives the judge from his 
bench; it does away with that which is more sacred than the 
Throne itself, — that for which your king reigns, your lords 
deliberate, your commons assemble. If ever I doubted, be- 
fore, of the success of our agitation for repeal, this bill, — 
this infamous bill, — the way in which it has been received 
by the House; the manner in which its opponents have been 
treated; the personalities to which they have been sub- 
jected; the yells with which one of them has this night been 
greeted, — all these things dissipate my doubts, and tell me 
of its complete and early triumph. Do you think those yells 
will be forgotten? Do you suppose their echo will not reach 
the plains of my injured and insulted country; that they will 
not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her 



164 orator's manual. 

lofty hills? Oh, they will be heard there! — yes, and they 
will not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound 
with indignation, — they will say, " We are eight millions, 
and you treat us thus, as though we were no more to your 
country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey! " 

I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my conscience 
and my country. I have opposed this measure throughout, 
and I now protest against it, as harsh, oppressive, uncalled 
for, unjust; — as establishing an infamous precedent, by re- 
taliating crime against crime ; — as tyrannous, — cruelly and 
vindictively tyrannous ! 

5. EMPLOYMENT OF INDIANS IN THE AMERICAN WAR. 

Earl of Chatham. 

My Lords, — Who is the man that, in addition to the disgraces 
and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and associate to our 
arms the tomahawk and scalping- knife of the savage ? — to call into 
civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the ivdods ? — 
to delegate to the merciless Indian the defense of disputed rights, 
and to wage the horrors of his harharous war against our hrethren? 

1 L O ^ 1 L O 

My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and lyunishment. 

w m tr R C to f s R C 
But, my Lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only 

1 bk R C bk R C 1 R O 

on the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of mo- 

1 BO 
rdlity ; "for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, " to use all 

wide BO 
the means which God and nature have put into our hands." I am 
1 B C 1 B C 

astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear 
them avowed in this House, or in this country! 

My Lords, I did not intend to encroach so much on your atten- 
tion; but I cannot repress my indignation; — 1 feel myself impelled 

1 R O 
to speak. My Lords, we are called upon as members of this House, 
fROsRO msRC^ IRC^ 

as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible harhdrity! — 
lift R C to h R ^ C hold h R 

That God \ and nature \ have put into our hands! What ideas of 

C down C 

God and nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not; but I 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^. 165 

w tr L C to br 

know that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to re- 

LC wtomsLC 
ligion and humanity. What! to attribute the sacred sanction of 

1 R O Ft 
Gdd and nature to the massacres of the Indian | scdljmig -knife! 
1 R O^ s R O w tr C F to waist w C to s C w tr C 

to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking 
to waist C 

the blood of his mangled victims! Such notions shock every precept 
m R O^ w tr C F to br OF w to IRQ 

of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor! 

1 O w br C to f m C 

These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of 
lift C and turn to 1 O Ft ^ 

them, demand the most decisive indignation! 

wlLOtofO w to sm Cm 

I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned b^nch, to 

O h L o 1 L O ~'"^~— 1 

Vindicate the religion of their Gdd, to support the justice of their 

O w 1 R O to 1 w tr R C to br C to 

country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity 
m C w tr C to br C to m 

of their lawn, — upon the judges, to interpose the purity of their 
R C to m s C ^ IRQ 

ermine, to save us from this polliition. I call upon the honor of 

bk R O 
your lordships, to reverence \ the dignity \ of your ancestors, and to 

m R O 
maintain yonv oivn. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my coun- 
1 , B O wide 1 B O 

try, to vindicate the national character. I call upon your lordships, 

B Ctr w tomfBC prone 
and upon every order of men in the state, to stamp upon this in- 
w tr B C to 1 f B C 

famous \ procedure \ \he indelible \ stigma oii\ie public \ abhorrence. 



6. CONSEQUENCES OF THE AMERICAN ^ KR.— Earl of Chatham. 

This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It 
is no time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery can- 
not save us, in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now 
necessary to instruct the throne, in the language of Truth. 
We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness 
which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine 
colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can minis- 



166 orator's manual. 

ters still presume to expect support in their infatuation? 
Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty as to be 
thus deluded into the loss of the one, and the violation of 
the other, — as to give an unlimited support to measures 
which have heaped disgrace and misfortune upon us; meas- 
ures which have reduced this late flourishing empire to 
ruin and contempt? But yesterday, and England might 
have stood against the world: now, none so poor as to do her 
reverence! France, my Lords, has insulted you. She has 
encouraged and sustained America; and, whether America 
be wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to 
spurn at the officious insult of French interference. Can 
even our ministers sustain a more humiliating disgrace? 
Do they dare to resent it? Do they presume even to hint 
a vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the state, by 
requiring the dismissal of the plenipotentiaries of America? 
The people, whom they affected to call contemptible rebels, 
but whose growing power has at last obtained the name of 
enemies, — the people with whom they have engaged this 
country in war, and against whom they now command our 
implicit support in every measure of desperate hostility, — 
this people, despised as rebels, or acknowledged as enemies, 
are abetted against you, supplied with every military store, 
their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, 
by your inveterate enemy, — and our ministers dare not 
interpose with dignity or effect! 

My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, where 
we cannot act with success nor suffer Avith honor, calls upon 
us to remonstrate in the strongest and loudest language of 
truth, to rescue the ear of majesty from the delusions which 
surround it. You cannot, I venture to say it, you cannot 
conquer America. What is your present situation there? 
We do not know the worst; but we know that in three 
campaigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You 
may swell every expense, and strain every effort, still more 



SELECTIONS FOR declamatio:n'. 167 

extravagantly; accumulate every assistance you can beg or 
borrow; traffic and barter with every little pitiful German 
prince, that sells and sends his subjects to the shambles of 
a foreign country: your efforts are forever vain and impo- 
tent, — doubly so from this mercenary aid on which you 
rely; for it irritates to an incurable resentment the minds 
of your enemies, to overrun them with the sordid sons of 
rapine and of plunder, devoting them and their possessions 
to the rapacity of hireling cruelty! If I were an Ameri- 
can, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was 
landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms! 
— never! never! never! 

7. THE condition OF IRELAND.- r. F. Meagher. 

(0) The war of centuries is at a close. The patronage and pro- 
scriptions of Ebringlon have failed. The procrastination and 
economy of Russell \ have triumphed. Let a thanksgiving \ be pro- 
claimed from the pulpit of St. Paul's. 

1 f R O 
[A 0) Let the Lords and Commons of England vote their gratitude 
1 s R q f h 

to the vicious and victorious economist! Let the guns of London 
RC ^ shRC ^ backhRC 

Tower | proclaim the triumph which has cost, in the past, coffers of 

s R C prone 
gold and torrents of blood, and, in this year, masses of putrefdc- 

1 B O 
tion, I to achieve. England! your great | difficulty is at an e;ifZ: your 
w 1 s B C B C back 

gallant and impetuous enemy is dead. Ireland, or rather the remains 

1 BO 
of Ireland, are yours at last. {GO) Your red ensign floats, not from 

hRCF hs R C F 

the Custom House, where you played the robber; not from Limerick 

s R 

wall, where you played the cut-throat; but it flies from a thousand | 
C prone w to R C Ft on waist ^ 1 R O 

grdveyards, where the titled \ niggards of your cabinet | have tvon 

m R O m s R C 

the battle which your | soldiers \ could not terminate. 
m 8 R C and down 
[A 0) Go ; send your scourge \ steamer to the western | coast to 



168 orator's manual. 

s R O 

convey some memorial of your conquest; and in the halls where the 

flags and cannon you have captured from a world of foes are grouped 

8 R O snatch Ft to waist w 

together, there let a shroud, stripped from some privileged corj^se, 

to sRO^ wsRC wshRC^ 

be for its proper price | displayed. Stop not there; change your udr 
hRCF , hCpr and falling 

crest; America has her eagle; let England have her vUlture. What 

1 R O Ft 

emblem | more fit \ for the (G) rapacious power whose statesmanship | 

w R C to m s C w R C Ft tr to br Ft to 1 R O 

depopulates, and whose commerce | is gorged with famine | prices? 

1 R O ^ 

(0) That is her proper \ signal. But whatever the monarch | jomnal- 

1 BC 

ists of Europe may say, {A 0) Ireland, thank God, is not dotvn \ yhi. 

1 B C 1 B O Ft 

{A G) She is on her knee; but her hand | is clinched \ against \ the 

1 B OFt 1 BO 

giant, and she has yet power | to strike. 

(0) Last year, from the Carpathian heights, we heard the cry of the 
Polish insurrectionists: "There is hope for Poland, while in Poland 

1 R o f 

there is a life to lose." {A 0) There is hope for Ireland, while in 

RO wlsRC ^ wsRC 

Ireland there is a life to lose. True it is, thousands upon thousands 

w s R C m 

of our comrades have fallen; but thousands upon thousands still 
BO ^ 1 BC 1 

survive; and the fate of the dead shall quicken the purposes of the 

BO li R C drop and lift h C 

living. The stakes are too \ high \ for us to throw up the hand until 

f li C prone h C w to br C and 

the last I card \ has been played; too high for us to throw ourselves 

f C prone 1 ^C 

in despair upon the coffins of our starved and swindled partners. 

(0) A peasant population, generous and heroic, a mechanic | popu- 
lation, honest and industrious, is at stake. 
m B O 1 B O 

They cannot, \ must not, | be | lost. 



8. AGAINST CURTAILING THE RIGHT OF SUFFRAGE.- Fic<c>r Hugo. 

Gentlemen: I address the men who govern us, and say 
to them, — Go on, cut off three millions of voters; cut off 
eight out of nine, and the result will be the same to you, if 



SELECTIONS FOE DECLAMATION. 169 

it be not more decisive. What you do not cut off is your 
own faults; the absurdities of your policy of compression, 
your fatal incapacity, your ignorance of the present epoch, 
the antipathy you feel for it, and that it feels for you; what 
you will not cut off is the times which are advancing, the 
hour now striking, the ascending movement of ideas, the 
gulf opening broader and deeper between yourself and the 
age, between the young generation and you, between the 
spirit of liberty and you, between the spirit of philosophy 
and you. 

What you will not cut off is this immense fact, that the 
nation goes to one side, while you go to the other ; that what 
for you is the sunrise is for it the sun's setting ; that you 
turn your backs to the future, while this great people of 
France, its front all radiant with light from the rising dawn 
of a new humanity, turns its back to the past. 

Gentlemen, this law is invalid; it is null; it is dead even 
before it exists. And do you know what has killed it? It 
is that, when it meanly approaches to steal the vote from the 
pocket of the poor and feeble, it meets the keen, terrible eye 
of the national probity, a devouring light, in which the work 
of darkness disappears. 

Yes, men who govern us, at the bottom of every citizen's 
conscience, the most obscure as well as the greatest, at the very 
depths of the soul, (I use your own expression,) of the last 
beggar, the last vagabond, there is a sentiment, sublime, 
sacred, insurmountable, indestructible, eternal, — the senti- 
ment of right! This sentiment, which is the very essence 
of the human conscience, which the Scriptures call the cor- 
ner-stone of justice, is the rock on which iniquities, hypoc- 
risies, bad laws, evil designs, bad governments, fall, and are 
shipwrecked. This is the hidden, irresistible obstacle, veiled 
in the recesses of every mind, but ever present, ever active, 
on which you will always exhaust yourselves; and which, 



170 orator's manual. 

whatever you do, you will never destroy. I warn you, your 
labor is lost; you will not extinguish it, you will not confuse 
it. Far easier to drag the rock from the bottom of the sea, 
than the sentiment of right from the heart of the people! 

9. RESISTANCE TO BRITISH AGGRESSION. -Pa^ncA; Henry. 

Me. President : It is natural to man to indulge in the illu- 
sions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a pain- 
ful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, till she 
transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, 
engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are 
we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes 
see not, and having ears hear not, the things which so nearly 
concern our temporal salvation? For vaj part, whatever 
anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole 
truth, — to know the worst, and to provide for it! 

I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided, and 
that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judg- 
ing of the future but by the past. And, judging by the 
past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of 
the British ministry, for the last ten years, to justify those 
hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace 
themselves and the House? Is it that insidious smile with 
which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, 
sir; it will prove a snare to your feet! Suffer not your- 
selves to be betrayed with a kiss ! Ask yourselves how this 
gracious reception of our petition comports with those war- 
like preparations which cover our waters and darken our 
land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and 
reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to 
be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our 
love? 

Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the imple- 
ments of war and subjugation, — the last arguments to which 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 171 

kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial 
array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can 
gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has 
Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to 
call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, 
sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be 
meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet 
upon us those chains which the British ministry have been 
so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? — 
Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for 
the last ten years. 

Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? 
What terms shall we find which have not already been 
exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves 
longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, 
to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have 
petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we 
have prostrated ourselves before the Throne, and have im- 
plored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the 
Ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted, 
our remonstrances have produced additional violence and 
insult, our supplications have been disregarded, and we have 
been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the Throne. 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope 
of peace and reconciliation. If we wish to be free, — if we 
mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for 
which we have been so long contending, — if we mean not 
basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been 
so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never 
to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be 
obtained, — we must fight; I repeat it, sir, we must fight! 
An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is 
left us! 



172 orator's manual. 

10. THE WAR INEVITABLE, Makch, Mlb.—Patnck Henry. 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope with so for- 
midable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be 
the next w6ek, or the next y^ar ? Will it be when we are totally dis- 
armed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? 
Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we 
acquire the means of effectual | resistance by lying supinely on our 
10 w tr C Ft to br C Ft^ and w to 1 B O 

backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies 

1 B O Ft 1 B O w 1 B C 

shall have bound us | hand | and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we 

make a proper | use ] of those means which the God of nature hath 
placed in our power. 

1 RO m RO 

Three millions of People, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and 
m sRO mfROl RO 

in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force 

which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight 

h L o 
our battles alone. There is a just | God who presides over the desti- 

1 L o 1 L o 

nies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles ior 

f R o 
us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant^ 

IRO IROFt wmsRC 

the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were 

wtrRCtobrC^ wmsRC wms C 

base enough to desire it, it is now too | late to retire from the contest. 

There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Oar chains are 

1 L O s L O 

forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston ! The 

fLO 1 BO 1 BO 

war is inevitable; and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cr^, 
mLOmLO msLCC ^ ILO^ 

p^ace, p^ace! — but there is | no peace. The wflr is actually begun! 

The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the 

m 8 L C 
clash of resounding ^rms! Our brethren are already in the fiMd! 
1 R O 1 O 1 L O 

Why stand tve here idle ? What is it that gentlemen tvlsh ? What 

1 L O 

would they have ? Is life | so | ddar | or peace | so ] sw^et | as to 

1 B O Ft B C h B C 
be purchased at the price of chains \ and slavery ? Forbid it, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOiST. 173 

h B C ^ drop back 1 B C 1 

Almighty | God ! I know not what course others may take; but as for 
BO m B O drop B C 

me, give me liberty, or give me d&ath! 

11. THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.— AS-w/jposec? Speech of John 
Adams, in the Continental Congress, July, 1716.— Daniel Webste?'. 

Sink or swim, live or dife, survive or parish, I give my hand and 
my heart to this vote! It is true, indeed, that, in the beginning, 
we aimed not at independence. But there is a Divinity which 
shapes our ^nds. The injustice of England has driven us to arms; 
and, blinded to her own interest for our good, she has obstinately 

1 R Ft 
persisted, till independence is now within our gr^sp. We have but 

mRO IRO wlsRC^ 

to resich. fdy-th to it, and it is ours. Why, th^n, should we defer the 

1 R O snatch to waist C Ft 
declaration? That measure will strengthen us. It will give us 

1 R O B R O 
character abroad. The cause \ will raise up armies; — the cause \ 

IRO 1 RO trRCFto 

wUl create navies. The p&ople, — the people, — if we are true to 

br wRCtomC w C tr to br C w to f C 

them, will carry lis, and will carry themselves, gloriously | through \ 

this struggle. Sir, the declaration will inspire the people with 
increased | courage. Instead of along | and bloody | war for restora- 
tion I of privileges, | for redress | of grievances, | for chartered | 
immunities, | held under a British | king, | set before them the glori- 

h ^ ^^ . ^ ^ 

ous I object I of entire \ independence, and it will breathe into them 
C ^ falling B C pr ^ m R 

anew \ the breath | of life. Read this declaration at the head of the 

O tr C Ft ^ to waist ^ w R C 

army; — every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the sol- 

to h C h C falling C pr 

emn | vow | uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor, 
m L O hLOlLO w 

Publish it from the pulpit; — religion will approve it, and the love 
tr L C and tosLC msLC . ^ .^ 

of religious liberty will cling | round it, resolved to stand \ with it, 

C pr m s R C 

OX fall with. it. Send it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let 

w mtrRC to m sRC 

them I hear it who heard the first | roar of the enemy's | cannon, — let 

w tr R C 

them I see it who saw their brothers and their sons fall on the field 



174 orator's manual. 

tomsC^ m sRCm sRC 

of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of LC^xington and Concord, — and 

h 8 R C down 

the very icdlls will cry out in its support ! 

Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs; but I see ] clearly | 

through this day's biisiness. You and /, indeed, may rile it. 

We may not live to see the time when this declaration shall be 

ILOfLO wlLC ^ w 

made gdod. We may die, — die colonists; die slaves; die, it may be, 
ILC^ wmsLCwlLCwlLC 

ignominioiislij, and on the scaffold! Be it so! be it so! If it be the 

pleasure of Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering 

of my life, the victim shall be r^ady at the appointed hour of s^cri- 

f BO wide 

fice, come when that hour may. But while I do live, let me have a 
BO h BO wide I B O 

country, — or, at least, the hope of a country, and that a/r^'e country. 

But, whatever may be our fate, be assured that this declardtimi 

will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost hlood; but it will 
f R O 1 R p slowly lift 

stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick | 
R C to h C ^ h R 

gloom of the present I see the brightness of the future, as the situ 
CF ^ hCF 

in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immbrtal day. 

w 1 B C 1 B O m B O 1 

When we | are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will 

BO 

celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with hbnfires, and 

illuminations. On its annual return, they will shed tears, — copious, 

w 1 B C w 1 BC w 1 BO 

gushing tears, — not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and 

BC h BO ^ m BO 1 BO ^ 

distress, — but of exultation, oi gratitude, and oi joy. Sir, before 

God, I believe the hour is come! My judgment approves this meas- 

1 R O f R O 

ure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I dm, 

h R O f R C ^ pr 

and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon 

drop bk R C 
it; and I leave off, as I began, that,- lii^e or die, survive or ph'ish, 1 

m BO ^ 1 BO 

am for the declaration! It is my living \ sentiment, | and, by the 

m BO 
blessing of God, it shall be my dying \ sentiment, — Independ- 
1 B O 

ENCE I now, I and Independence \ FORiJVERl 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIO^ST. 175 

12. NORTHERN LABORERS.- C. Naylor. 

(0) The gentleman has misconceived the spirit and tendency 
of northern | institutions. He is ignorant of northern | character. 
He has forgotten the history | of his country. Preach | insurrection 

1 R o 
to thie northern \ laborers! Who are \ the northern laborers'? The 

IfRO IsRO IsRO 

history of your country is their history. The renown of yonr coun- 

1 f R O w m tr L C and 

try is their renown. The brightness | of their doings | is emblazoned 
torn sLC sLC 

on its every | 2^<^9e. Blot | from your annals | the deeds \ and the 

\y m B C tr 

doings \ of noHhern \ laborers, and the history of your country pre- 

and to m f s BC 
sents but a universal \ blank. 

h R 

{AO) Who was he that disarmed | the thunderer; wrested from 

P Ft change to h f C prone change to 

his grasp the bolts | of Jove; calmed the troubled | ocean; became 

h C F ^ change to f C 

the central \ sun | of \he philosophical system \ of his age, shedding 
prone w R 

his brightness and effulgence on the whole \ civilized \ world; parti- 

C to br C Ft m R O w _ 

cipated in the achievement of your independence; prominently 

R C _ across body and to 

assisted in moulding your/ree institutions, and the beneficial effects 

s f C prone 
of whose wisdom will be felt to the last \ moment \ of ''recorded 
and down 1 R O 1 R O 

time ? " Who, I ask, was he? (0) A northern | laborer, a Yankee | 
1 f R O IsRO 

tallow-chandler's son, a, printer's runaway | boy! 

And who, let me ask the honorable gentleman, who was h6 that, 

in the days of our Revolution, led forth a northern | army, — yes, an 

m B 
army of northern \ laborers, \ (A 0) — and aided the chivalry of South 
O ^ w h B C tr and to h f B C w B C tr 

Carolina in their defense against British aggression, drove the spoil- 

and to m s B C change to 1 B O 
ers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair fields from foreign \ 

1 BO 
invaders ? Who was he ? (0) A northern | laborer, a Rhode Island 
10 wl C back 

hldcJcsmith, — the gallant General Greene, — (AO) who left his hammer 

down 
and his fdrge, \ and went forth conquering and to conquer in the 



176 orator's manual. 

m O down 

battle for our independence ! (0) And will you preach insurrection to 

1 O 

men like these ? 

1 O 
Our country is full of the achievements of northern laborers! 

Where are Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, 

IRQ w m 

and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in the north? And what has 

tr R C and to m s C 

shed an imperishable renown | on the never-dying names of those 

hallowed spots but the [AO) hlood and the struggles, the high \ daring 

1 BO 

and patriotism, and sublime \ courage of noHhern \ laborers ? (0) 
m BO ^ h BO 

The whole \ north is an everlasting \ monument of the freedom, vir- 

1 BO 

tue, intelligence, and indomitable independence of northern laborers! 

w m BC 1 BO 

Go, preach insurrection to men like these! 

The fortitude of the men of the north, under intense suffering 
h L j3 m L O 1 L^O 

for liberty's sake, has been almost godlike! History has so recorded 

w 1 bk B C w bk 

it. Who compAsed that gallant army, that, without food, without 
BC wbkBCwbkBCwbkBC wm s BC down 

pay, shelterless, shoeless, penniless, and almost naked, in that 

w 1 
dreadful winter, — the midnight of our Revolution, — {AO) whose wan- 
R C tr and 

derings could be traced by their blood-tracks in the snow, whom no 
to 8 R C w m tr C and to m s C m s C 

arts could seduce, no appeal lead astray, no sufferings disaffect, but 

w tr C F to br C F 
who, true to their country, and its holy cause, continued to fight the 

1 R O Ft 1 R O w m R^O 

good fight of liberty, until it finally triumphed ? Who tvere these 

1 R o 
men? (0) Why, northern laborers! 

13. THE AMERICAN SAILOR.- i?. F. Stockton. 

Look to your history, — that part of it which the world 
knows by heart, — and you will find on its brightest page 
the glorious achievements of the American sailor. What- 
ever his country has done to disgrace him, and break his 
spirit, he has never disgraced her; he has always been ready 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 177 

to serve her; he always has served her faithfully and effect- 
ually. He has often been weighed in the balance, and 
never found wanting. The only fault ever found with him 
is, that he sometimes fights ahead of his orders. The world 
has no match for him, man for man; and he asks no odds, 
and he cares for no odds, when the cause of humanity, or 
the glory of his country, calls him to fight. Who, in the 
darkest days of our Revolution, carried your flag into the 
very chops of the British Channel, bearded the lion in his 
den, and woke the echoes of old Albion's hills by the thun- 
ders of his cannon and the shouts of his triumph? It was 
the American sailor. And the names of John Paul Jones, 
and the Bon Homme Richard, will go down the annals of 
time forever. Who struck the first blow that humbled the 
Barbary flag, — which for a hundred years had been the 
terror of Christendom, — drove it from the Mediterranean, 
and put an end to the infamous tribute it had been accus- 
tomed to extort? It was the American sailor. And the 
name of Decatur and his gallant companions will be as 
lasting as monumental brass. In your war of 1812, when 
your arms on shore were covered by disaster, — when Win- 
chester had been defeated, when the army of the North- 
west had surrendered, and when the gloom of despondency 
hung like a cloud over the land, — who first relit the fires of 
national glory, and made the welkin ring with the shouts of 
victory? It was the American sailor. And the names of 
Hull and the Constitution will be remembered, as long as 
we have left anything worth remembering. That was no 
small event. The wand of Mexican prowess was broken on 
the Rio Grande. The wand of British invincibility was 
broken when the flag of the Guerriere came down. That 
one event was worth more to the Republic than all the 
money which has ever been expended for the navy. Since 
that day, the navy has had no stain upon its escutcheon, 
but has been cherished as your pride and glory. And the 



178 orator's maxual. 

American sailor has established a reputation throughout 
the world, — in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, — 
for heroism and prowess unsurpassed. He shrinks from no 
danger, he dreads no foe, and yields to no superior. No 
shoals are too dangerous, no seas too boisterous, no climate 
too rigorous for him. The burning sun of the tropics can- 
not make him effeminate, nor can the eternal winter of the 
polar seas paralyze his energies. Foster, cherish, develop 
these characteristics, by a generous and paternal govern- 
ment. Excite his emulation, and stimulate his ambition, by 
rewards. And, when the final struggle comes, as soon it 
will come, for the empire of the seas, you may rest with 
entire confidence in the persuasion that victory will be 
yours. 

14. AMBITION OP A STATESMAN.— Sew y^ aay. 

{0)1 have been accused of ambition in presenting this 
measure — ambition, inordinate ambition. If I had thought 
of myself only, I should have never brought it forward. I 
know well the perils to w^hich I expose myself; the risk of 
alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little pros- 
pects of making new ones, if any new ones could compensate 
for the loss of those we have long tried and loved; and the 
honest misconception both of friends and foes. Ambition? 
If I had listened to its soft and seducing whispers; if I had 
yielded myself to the dictates ©f a cold, calculating and pru- 
dential policy, I would have stood still and unmoved. I 
might even have silently gazed on the raging storm, enjoyed 
its loudest thunders, and left those who are charged with the 
care of the vessel of state to conduct it as they could. I have 
been heretofore, often unjustly, accused of ambition. {G) Low. 
groveling souls, who are utterly incapable of elevating them- 
selves to the higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism — 
beings who, forever keeping their own selfish ends in view, 
decide all public measures by their presumed influence on 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 179 

their aggrandizement — judge me by the venal rule which 
they prescribe to themselves. I have given to the winds 
those false accusations, as I consign that which now im- 
peaches my motives. (0) I have no desire for office, not even 
the highest. The most exalted is but a prison, in which the 
incarcerated incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless 
visitants, marks his weary hours, and is cut off from the 
practical enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine freedom. 
I am no candidate for any office in the gift of the people of 
these states, united or separated; I never wish, never expect 
to be. Pass this bill, tranquillize the country, restore confi- 
dence and affection in the Union, and I am willing to go 
home to Ashland, and renounce public service forever. I 
should there find, in its groves, under its shades, on its lawns, 
midst my flocks and herds, in the bosom of my family, sin- 
cerity and truth, attachment, and fidelity, and gratitude, 
which I have not always found in the walks of public life. 
(A 0) Yes, I have ambition; but it is the ambition of being 
the humble instrument, in the hands of Providence, to 
reconcile a divided people; once more to revive concord and 
harmony in a distracted land — the pleasing ambition of 
contemplating the glorious spectacle of a free, united, pros- 
perous, and fraternal people. 

15. KIENZI'S ADDEESS TO THE ROMANS.-ifary Eussell Mitf&rd. 
(See % 148: \), c.) 

(0) Friends ! I come not here to talk. You know too well 

The story of our thralldom. We are slaves! 

The bright sun rises to his course and lights 

A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beams 
{A 0) Fall on a slave; not such as, swept along 

By tne full tide of power, the conqueror led 

To crimson glory and undying fame : 
{GO) But base, ignoble slaves; slaves to a horde 

Of pettii ti/7-a7its, feudal despots, lords 

Bich in some dozen paltry villages; 



180 orator's manual. 

Strong in some hundred spearmen; onlij great 
{A 0) In that strange spell — a name. 

Each hour, dark fraud 
(0) Or open rapine, or protected murder. 

Cries out against them. But this very day 

An honest man, my neighbor — there he stands — 
{G) Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore 
(0) The badge of Ursini, because, forsooth! 

He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 

Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 
{G) At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men, 
{G 0) And suffer such dishonor? — men, and wash not 

The stain away in hlood ? Such shames are common. 
(0) 1 have known deeper wrongs; 1, that speak to ye, 

I had a brother once — a gracious boy, 

Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 
(A P) Of sweet and quiet joy; — there was the look 

Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 

To the beloved disciple. 

How I loved 
That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years, 

(P) Brother at once, and son ! He left my side, 
A summer bloom on his fair cheek; a smile 

{A G) Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour 
The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 

(G 0) For vengeance! Rouse ye, Romans! rouse ye, slaves/ 
Have ye brave sons ? Look in the next fierce brawl 
To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
Dishonored : and if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash. 

(0) Yet, this is Rome, 

That sat upon her seven hills, and from her throne 
Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet, we are Romans, 

(A 0) Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 

Was greater than a king! And, once again — 
Hear me, ye walls that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again, I swear, 
The Eternal City shall be free! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 181 

16. THE SEMINOLE'S DEFIANCE.— (?. W. Patten. 

Blaze, with your serried columns! I will not bend the knee; 
The shackle ne'er again shall bind the arm which now is free! 
I've mailed it with the thunder, when the tempest muttered low, 
And where it falls, ye well may dread the lightning of its blow. 
I've scared you in the city; I've scalped you on the plain; 
Go, count your chosen where they fell beneath my leaden rain! 
I scorn your proffered treaty; the pale-face I defy; 
Revenge is stamped upon my spear, and " blood " my battle-cry! 

Some strike for hope of booty; some to defend their all; — 
I battle for the joy I have to see the white man fall. 
I love, among the wounded, to hear his dying moan. 
And catch, while chanting at his side, the music of his groan. 
Ye've trailed me through the forest; ye've tracked me o'er the stream, 
And struggling through the everglade your bristling bayonets gleam; 
But I stand as should the warrior, with his rifle and his spear; 
The scalp of vengeance still is red, and warns you, — come not here! 

Think ye to find my homestead? — I gave it to the fire. 

My tawny household do ye seek? — I am a childless sire. 

But, should ye crave life's nourishment, enough I have, and good; 

I live on hate, — 'tis all my bread; yet light is not my food. 

I loathe you with my bosom! I scorn you with mine eye! 

And I'll taunt you with my latest breath, and fight you till I die! 

I ne'er will ask for quarter, and I ne'er will be your slave; 

But ril swim the sea of slaughter till I sink beneath the wave! 

The following-, in this style, are less vehement, and, for this reason, not so 
well suited as the foregoing for those students whose delivery is naturally lacking 
in force or spirit : 

n. CIVIL WAR THE GREATEST NATIONAL EVIL, 1829. 
Lo7'd Palmerston. 

Then come we to the last remedy, — civil war. Some 
gentlemen say that, sooner or later, we must fight for it, and 
the sword must decide. They tell us that, if blood were but 
shed in Ireland, Catholic emancipation might be avoided. 
Sir, when honorable members shall be a little deeper read in 
the history of Ireland, they will find that in Ireland blood 
has been shed, — that in Ireland leaders have been seized. 



182 orator's manual. 

trials have been had, and punishments have been inflicted. 
They will find, indeed, almost every page of the history of 
Ireland darkened by bloodshed, by seizures, by trials, and by 
punishments. But what has been the eJBfect of these meas- 
ures? They have, indeed, been successful in quelling the 
disturbances of the moment; but they never have gone to 
their cause, and have only fixed deeper the poisoned barb 
that rankles in the heart of Ireland. Can one believe one's 
ears, when one hears respectable men talk so lightly — nay, 
almost so wishfully — of civil war? Do they reflect what a 
countless multitude of ills those three short syllables con- 
tain? It is well, indeed, for the gentlemen of England, who 
live secure under the protecting shadow of the law, whose 
slumbers have never been broken by the clashing of angry 
swords, whose harvests have never been trodden down by the 
conflict of hostile feet, — it is well for them to talk of civil 
war, as if it were some holiday pastime, or some sport of 
children : 

" They jest at scars who never felt a wound." 

But, that gentlemen from unfortunate and ill-starred Ire- 
land, who have seen with their own eyes, and heard with 
their own ears, the miseries which civil war produces, — who 
have known, by their own experience, the barbarism, ay, the 
barbarity, which it engenders, — that such persons should 
look upon civil war as anything short of the last and greatest 
of national calamities, — is to me a matter of the deepest and 
most unmixed astonishment. I will grant, if you will, that 
the success of such a war with Ireland would be as signal 
and complete as would be its injustice; I will grant, if you 
will, that resistance would soon be extinguished with the 
lives of those who resisted ; I will grant, if you will, that the 
crimsoned banner of England would soon wave, in undis- 
puted supremacy, over the smoking ashes of their towns, and 
the blood-stained solitude of their fields, But I tell you that 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 183 

England herself never would permit the achievement of such 
a conquest; England would reject, with disgust, laurels that 
were dyed in fraternal blood; England would recoil, with 
loathing and abhorrence, from the bare contemplation of so 
devilish a triumph! 

18, UNION WITH GREAT BRITAIN, 1800.— Henry Grattan. 

The minister misrepresents the sentiments of the people, 
as he has before traduced their reputation. He asserts, that 
after a calm and mature consideration, they have pronounced 
their judgment in favor of an Union. Of this assertion not 
one syllable has any warrant in fact, nor in the appearance of 
fact. I appeal to the petitions of twenty-one counties in evi- 
dence. To affirm that the judgment of a nation against is 
fo)^; to assert that she has said ay when she has pronounced 
nay; to make the falsification of her sentiments the founda- 
tion of her ruin, and the ground of the Union ; to affirm that 
her Parliament, Constitution, liberty, honor, property, are 
taken away by her own authority, — there is, in such arti- 
fice, an eff'rontery, a hardihood, an insensibility, that can 
best be answered by sensations of astonishment and disgust. 

The Constitution may be for a time so lost. The 
character of the country cannot be so lost. The ministers 
of the Crown will, or may, perhaps, at length find that it is 
not so easy, by abilities however great, and by power and 
corruption however irresistible, to put down forever an 
ancient and respectable Nation. Liberty may repair her 
golden beams, and with redoubled heat animate the country. 
The cry of loyalty will not long continue against the prin- 
ciples of liberty. Loyalty is a noble, a judicious, and a capa- 
cious principle ; but in these countries loyalty, distinct from 
liberty, is corruption, not loyalty. 

The cry of disaftection will not, in the end, avail against 
the principle of liberty. I do not give up the country. I 
see her in a swoon, but she is not dead. Though in her 



184 orator's manual. 

tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still tliere is on her 
lips a spirit of life, and on her cheek a glow of beauty: 

'* Thou art not conquered; Beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
And Death's pale flag is not advanced there." 

While a plank of the vessel sticks together, I will not 
leave her. Let the courtier present his flimsy sail, and carry 
the light bark of his faith with every new breath of wind ; I 
will remain anchored here, with fidelity to the fortunes of my 
country, faithful to her freedom, faithful to her fall ! 

19. REPLY TO LORD NORTH, 1774. -CoZ. Barre. 

Sir, this proposition is so glaring; so unprecedented in 
any former proceedings of Parliament; so unwarranted by 
any delay, denial or provocation of justice, in America; so 
big with misery and oppression to that country, and with 
danger to this, — that the first blush of it is sufficient to 
alarm and rouse me to opposition. It is proposed to stig- 
matize a whole people as persecutors of innocence, and men 
incapable of doing justice; yet you have not a single fact on 
which to ground that imputation! I expected the noble 
lord would have supported this motion by producing in- 
stances in which officers of Government in America had been 
prosecuted with unremitting vengeance, and brought to cruel 
and dishonorable deaths, by the violence and injustice of 
American juries. But he has not produced one such in- 
stance ; and I will tell you more, sir, — he cannot produce 
one ! The instances which have happened are directly in the 
teeth of his proposition. Col. Preston and the soldiers who 
shed the blood of the people were fairly tried, and fully ac- 
quitted. It was an American jury, a New England jury, a 
Boston jury, which tried and acquitted them. Col. Preston 
has, under his hand, publicly declared that the inhabitants 
of the very town in which their fellow-citizens had been sac- 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 185 

rificed were his advocates and defenders. Is this the return 
you make them? Is this the encouragement you give them 
to persevere in so laudable a spirit of justice and modera- 
tion? But the noble Lord says, "We must now show the 
Americans that we will no longer sit quiet under their 
insults." Sir, I am sorry to say that this is declamation 
unbecoming the character and place of him who utters it. 
In what moment have you been quiet? Has not your Gov- 
ernment, for many years past, been a series of irritating and 
offensive measures, without policy, principle or moderation? 
Have not your troops and your ships made a vain and in- 
sulting parade in their streets and in their harbors? Have 
you not stimulated discontent into disaffection, and are you 
not now goading disaffection into rebellion? Can you ex- 
pect to be well informed when you listen only to partisans? 
Can you expect to do justice when you will not hear the ac- 
cused? 

Let the banners be once spread in America, and you are 
an undone people. You are urging this desperate, this de- 
structive issue. In assenting to your late Bill, I resisted the 
violence of America at the hazard of my popularity there. I 
now resist your frenzy at the same risk here. I know the 
vast superiority of your disciplined troops over the Provin- 
cials ; but beware how you supply the want of discipline by 
desperation! What madness is it that prompts you to 
attempt obtaining that by force which you may more cer- 
tainly procure by requisition? The Americans may be 
flattered into anything; but they are too much like your- 
selves to be driven. Have some indulgence for your own 
likeness; respect their sturdy English virtue; retract your 
odious exertions of authority, and remember that the first 
step towards making them contribute to your wants is to 
reconcile them to your Government. 



186 orator's manual. 

20. ENMITY TOWARD GREAT BRITAIN.— i?. Choate. 

Mr. President, we must distinguish a little. That there 
exists in this country an intense sentiment of nationality; 
a cherished energetic feeling and consciousness of our inde- 
pendent and separate national existence; a feeling that we 
have a transcendent destiny to fulfill, which we mean to 
fulfill; a great work to do, which we know how to do, and 
are able to do; a career to run, up which we hope to ascend, 
till we stand on the steadfast and glittering summits of the 
world; a feeling that we are surrounded and attended by a 
noble historical group of competitors and rivals, the other 
nations of the earth, all of whom we hope to overtake, and 
even to distance ; — such a sentiment as this exists, perhaps, 
in the character of this people. And this I do not discour- 
age, I do not condemn. But, sir, that among these useful 
and beautiful sentiments, predominant among them, there 
exists a temper of hostility toward this one particular 
nation, to such a degree as to amount to a habit, a trait, a 
national passion — to amount to a state of feeling which " is 
to be regretted," and which really threatens another war — 
this I earnestly and confidently deny. 

No, sir ! no, sir ! We are above all this. Let the High- 
land clansman, half naked, half civilized, half blinded by 
the peat-smoke of his cavern, have his hereditary enemy 
and his hereditary enmity, and keep the keen, deej) and 
precious hatred, set on fire of hell, alive if he can ; let the 
North American Indian have his, and hand it down from 
father to son, by Heaven knows what symbols of alligators, 
and rattlesnakes, and war-clubs, smeared with vermilion 
and entwined with scarlet; let such a country as Poland, — 
cloven to the earth, the armed heel on the radiant forehead, 
her body dead, her soul not able to die, — let her remember 
the " wrongs of days long past"; let the lost and wandering 
tribes of Israel remember theirs — the manliness and the 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 187 

sj^mpatby of the world may allow or pardon this to them ; — 
but shall America, young, free, prosperous, just setting out 
on the highway of heaven, " decorating and cheering the 
elevated sphere she just begins to move in, glittering like 
the morning star, full of life and joy," shall she be supposed 
to be polluting and corroding her noble and happy heart, 
by moping over old stories of stamp act, and tea tax, and 
the firing of the Leopard upon the Chesapeake in a time of 
peace? No, sir! no, sir! a thousand times no! Why, I 
protest I thought all that had been settled. I thought two 
wars had settled it all. What else was so much good blood 
shed for, on so many more than classical fields of revolu- 
tionary glory? For what was so much good blood more 
lately shed, at Lundy's Lane, at Fort Erie, before and 
behind the lines at New Orleans, on the deck of the Con- 
stitution, on the deck of the Java, on the lakes, on the sea, 
but to settle exactly these "wrongs of past days"? And 
have we come back sulky and sullen from the very field of 
honor? For my country, I deny it. 

Mr. President, let me say that, in my judgment, this 
notion of a national enmity of feeling toward Great 
Britain belongs to a past age of our history. My younger 
countrymen are unconscious of it. They disavow it. That 
generation in whose opinions and feelings the actions and 
the destiny of the next are unfolded, as the tree in the germ, 
do not at all comprehend your meaning, nor your fears, nor 
your regrets. We are born to happier feelings. We look 
to England as we look to France. We look to them, from 
our new world, — not unrenowned, yet a new world still, — 
and the blood mounts to our cheeks; our eyes swim; our 
voices are stifled with emulousness of so much glory; their 
trophies will not let us sleep; but there is no hatred at all: 
no hatred, — no barbarian memory of wrongs, for which 
brave men have made the last expiation to the brave. 



188 orator's manual. 

21. THE SOUTH DURING THE REVOLUTION. -i?o66r< Y. Hayne, 1830. 

If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President (and I 
say it not in a boastful spirit), that may challenge compari- 
sons with any other, for an uniform, zealous, ardent and 
uncalculating devotion to the Union, that State is South 
Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the Revolu- 
tion, up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, 
she has not cheerfully made, — no service she has ever hesi- 
tated to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity, 
but in your adversity she has clung to you with more than 
filial affection. No matter what was the condition of her 
domestic affairs, — though deprived of her resources, divided 
by parties, or surrounded with difficulties, — the call of the 
country has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic dis- 
cord ceased at the sound ; every man became at once reconciled 
to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen 
crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the 
altar of their common country. 

What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the 
Revolution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in 
that glorious struggle. But, great as is the praise which 
belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the 
South. They espoused the quarrel of their brethren with 
a generous zeal, which did not suffer them to stop to calcu- 
late their interest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother 
country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to create a 
commercial rivalship, they might have found in their situa- 
tion a guarantee that their trade would be forever fostered 
and protected by Great Britain. But, trampling on all 
considerations either of interest or of safety, they rushed 
into the conflict, and, fighting for principle, periled all in 
the sacred cause of freedom. Never was there exhibited, in 
the history of the world, higher examples of noble daring, 
dreadful suffering and heroic endurance, than by the whigs 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 189 

of Carolina during the Revolution. The whole State, from 
the mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming 
force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the 
spot where they were produced, or were consumed by the 
foe. The "plains of Carolina" drank up the most precious 
blood of her citizens. Black and smoking ruins marked 
the places which had been the habitations of her children! 
Driven from their homes, into the gloomy and almost im- 
penetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived; 
and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumters 
and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, that, though her soil 
might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible. 

22. SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS, 18S0.— Daniel Webster. 

The eulogium pronounced on the character of the State 
of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her 
Revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concur- 
rence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member 
goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished 
talent or distinguished character South Carolina has pro- 
duced. I claim part of the honor, I partake in the pride of 
her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all. 
The Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, 
the Marions, — Americans, all, — whose fame is no more to be 
hemmed in by State lines than their talents and patriotism 
were capable of being circumscribed within the same 
narrow limits. 

Sir, I thank God that, if I am gifted with little of the 
spirit which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, 
I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which 
would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in 
my place here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at pub- 
lic merit, because it happened to spring up beyond the little 
limits of my own State or neighborhood; when I refuse, 



190 orator's manual. 

for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to 
American talent, to elevated i^atriotism, to sincere devotion 
to liberty and the country; or, if I see an uncommon 
endowment of Heaven, — if I see extraordinary capacity 
and virtue in any son of the South, — and if moved by local 
prejudice, or gangrened by State jealousy, I get up here to 
abate the tithe of a hair from his just character and just 
fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth! Sir, 
let me recur to pleasing recollections; let me indulge in re- 
freshing remembrance of the past;' let me remind you that, 
in early times, no States cherished greater harmony, both of 
principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. 
Would to God that harmon}^ might again return! Shoulder 
to shoulder they went through the Revolution ; hand in hand 
the}^ stood round the administration of Washington, and felt 
his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feel- 
ing, if it exist, — alienation and distrust, — are the growth, 
unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They 
are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never 
scattered. 

Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa- 
chusetts, for she needs none. There she is, — behold her, 
and judge for yourselves. There is her history, — the world 
knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is 
Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill, — 
and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, 
fallen in the great struggle for independence, now lie min- 
gled with the soil of every State from New England to 
Georgia, — and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where 
American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth 
was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the 
strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If 
discord and disunion shall wound it, — if party strife and 
blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it, — if folly and mad- 
ness^ if uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraints, 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 191 

shall succeed in separating it from that Union by which alone 
its existence is made sure, — it will stand, in the end, by the 
side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it will 
stretch forth its arm, with whatever vigor it may still retain, 
over the friends who gather around it; and it will fall at last, 
if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own 
glory, and on the very spot of its origin! 

23. MILITARY SUPREMACY DAXGEROUS TO 'LIBERTY .—ffenry Clay. 

Kecall to your recollection the free nations which have 
gone before us. Where are they now? 

"Gone glimmering through the dream of things that were, 
A school-boy's tale, the wonder of an hour." 

And how have they lost their liberties? If we could 
transport ourselves to the ages when Greece and Rome 
flourished in their greatest prosperity, and, mingling in the 
throng, should ask a Grecian if he did not fear that some dar- 
ing military chieftain covered with glory — some Philip or 
Alexander — w^ould one day overthrow the liberties of his 
country, the confident and indignant Grecian would exclaim, 
"No! no! we have nothing to fear from our heroes; our 
liberties will be eternal." If a Roman citizen had been asked 
if he did not fear that the conqueror of Gaul might establish 
a throne upon the ruins of public liberty, he would have in- 
stantly repelled the unjust insinuation. Yet Greece fell; 
Caesar passed the Rubicon, and the patriotic arm even of 
Brutus could not preserve the liberties of his devoted 
country. 

We are fighting a great moral battle, for the benefit, not 
only of our country, but of all mankind. The eyes of the 
whole world are in fixed attention upon us. One, and the 
largest portion of it, is gazing with contempt, with jealousy, 
and with envy; the other portion, with hope, with confidence, 
and with affection. Everywhere the black cloud of Legiti- 



192 orator's manual. 

macy is suspended over the world, save only one bright spot, 
which breaks out from the political hemisphere of the West, 
to enlighten, and animate, and gladden the human heart. 
Observe that, by the downfall of liberty here, all mankind 
are enshrouded in a pall of universal darkness. To you 
belongs the high privilege of transmitting, unimpaired, to 
posterity, the fair character and liberty of our country. Do 
you expect to execute this high trust by trampling or suffer- 
ing to be trampled down, law, justice, the Constitution, and 
the rights of the people? by exhibiting examples of inhu- 
manity, and cruelty, and ambition? Beware how you give a 
fatal sanction, in this infant period of our Republic, scarcely 
yet two-score years old, to military insubordination. Re- 
member that Greece had her Alexander, Rome her Caesar, 
England her Cromwell, France her Bonaparte, and that, if 
we would escape the rock on which they split, we must avoid 
their errors. 

212. Controversial, Interrogative Style: Frequent Up- 
ward Inflections (Predominating Terminal Stress (§ 101), becom- 
ing, on very emphatic words of one syllable, Compound (§103: a; 
§45: b,c). 

24. THE EXPUNGING RESOLUTION, \%2n.-Henry Clay. 

What patriotic purpose is to be accomplished by this expunging 
resolution ? Can you make that not to be which has been ? Can you 
eradicate from memory and from history the fact that, in March, 1834, 
a majority \ of the Senate of the United States passed the resolution 
which excites your enmity? Is it your vain and wicked object to 
arrogate to yourselves that power of annihilating the past which has 

R C 

been denied to Omnipotence | itself ? Do you intend to thrust your 
Ft to br w out R C Ft w C F to br 

hands into our hearts, and to pluck out | the deeply-rooted convictions 
RCF wmRC tomsRC 

which are there? Or, is it your design merely to stigmatize us? 
w m s R C 

{0 A) You cannot stigmatize | us! 

'' Ne'er yet | did base dishonor blur our nime." 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^. 193 

R C F to br C F w R C to s h C 

Standing securely upon our conscious rectitude, and bearing aloft the 

h R C 
shield of the Constitution of our country, your puny efforts are impo- 
prone s h R C 

tent, and we defy | all ' your power! 

(0) But why should I detain the Senate, or needlessly waste my 

breath in fruitless | ex&rtions? The decree has gone forth. It is one 

1 L O bk L O 
of urgency, too. The deed is to be done, — that foul | deed which, 

w 1 L C tr and 

like the stain on the hands of the guilty Macbeth, all | ocean's | 
to 1 s L C . 

waters will never wash out. Proceed, then, to the noble work which 

w 1 tr R O to 1 R O ^ 

lies before you; and, like other skillful executioners, do it quickly. 
1 f RO Is RO 1 

And, when you have perpetrated it, go home to the people, and tell 
RO m R O 1 R 

them what glorious | honors | you have achieved for our common | 

O f hRC prone 

countiy. Tell them that you have extinguished one of the brightest 

f hRC 
and purest lights that ever burnt at the altar of civil liberty. (A 0) 
f s RC w 

Tell them that you have silenced one of the noblest batteries that ever 

to R C Ft on waist w to 

thundered in defense of the Constitiition, and that you have bravely 
s h RC ^ 
spiked I the cannon. Tell them that, henceforward, no matter what 

daring or outrageous act any President may perform, you have for- 

f B C h f BC h 

ever hermetically scaled | the mouth | of the Senate. Tell them that 
R or L 1 O snatch C Ft to waist 

he may fearlessly assume what power he pleases, {G 0) snatch from its 

w mC to 

lawful custody the public purse, command a military detachment to 

msC ^sCprlC 1 

enter the halls of the Capitol, overawe Congress, trample down the 

C w m C tr and to m s C w m C 

Constitution, and raze every bulwark of freedom, {A 0) but that the 

to br C w C to 

Senate must stand | mute, in silent submission, and not dare to lift 
f !ii C 
an opposing voice; that it must wait until a House of Repres^nta- 

1 C ic 

tives, humbled and subdued like itself, and a majority of it composed 

1 B O 

of the partisans of the President, shall prefer articles of impeachment. 
b 



194 orator's manual. 

w 
Tell them, finally, that you have restored the glorious doctrine of pas- 
out m B C w out m 3 B C 
sive obedience and non-resistance; and, when you have told them 

w out and down B C 

this, if {G 0) the people do not swc^ep you from your places with their 
indignation, (0) I have yet to learn the character | of American | 
fr&emen ! 

25. ON THE JUDICIARY ACT, 1802.— Gouverneur llorris. 

What will be the situation of these States, organized as 
they now are, if, by the dissolution of our national compact, 
they are left to themselves? What is the probable result? 
We shall either be the victims of foreign intrigue, and, split 
into factions, fall under the domination of a foreign power, 
or else, after the misery and torment of a civil war, become 
the subjects of an usurping military despot. What but this 
compact, what but this specific part of it, can save us from 
ruin? The judicial power, that fortress of the Constitution, 
is now to be overturned. With honest Ajax, I would not 
only throw a shield before it, — I would build around it a 
wall of brass. But I am too weak to defend the rampart 
against the host of assailants. I must call to my assistance 
their good sense, their patriotism and their virtue. Do not, 
gentlemen, suffer the rage of passion to drive Eeason from 
her seat! If this law be indeed bad, let us join to remedy 
the defects. Has it been passed in a manner which wounded 
your pride, or roused your resentment? Have, I conjure 
you, the magnanimity to pardon that ofTense ! I entreat, I 
implore you, to sacrifice these angry passions to the interests 
of the country. Pour out this pride of opinion on the altar 
of patriotism. Let it be an expiating libation for the weal 
of America. Do not, for God's sake, do not suffer that pride 
to plunge us all into the abyss of ruin ! 

Indeed, indeed, it will be but of little, very little, avail, 
whether one opinion or the other be right or wrong ; it will 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 195 

heal no wounds, it will pay no debts, it will rebuild no 
ravaged towns. Do not rel}^ on that popular will which has 
brought us frail beings into political existence. That opinion 
is but a changeable thing. It will soon change. This very- 
measure will change it. You will be deceived. Do not, I 
beseech you, in a reliance on a foundation so frail, commit 
the dignity, the harmony, the existence of our nation, to the 
wild wind! Trust not your treasure to the waves. Throw 
not your compass and your charts into the ocean. Do not 
believe that its billows will waft you into port. Indeed, in- 
deed, you will be deceived! Cast not away this only anchor 
of our safety. I have seen its progress. I know the diffi- 
culties through which it was obtained: I stand in the pres- 
ence of Almighty God, and of the world, and I declare to 
you that, if you lose this charter, never, — no, never will 
you get another ! We are now, perhaps, arrived at the part- 
ing point. Here, even here, we stand on the brink of fate 
Pause — pause ! — for heaven's sake, pause ! 

26. AGAINST THE EMBARGO, 1808— Josiah Quincy. 

I ask, in what page of the Constitution you find the power 
of laying an embargo. Directly given, it is nowhere. Never 
before did society witness a total prohibition of all inter- 
course like this, in a commercial nation. But it has been 
asked in debate, " Will not Massachusetts, the cradle of lib- 
erty, submit to such privations? " An embargo liberty was 
never cradled in Massachusetts. Our liberty was not so 
much a mountain nymph as a sea nymph. She was free as 
air. She could swim, or she could run. The ocean was her 
cradle. Our fathers met her as she came, like the goddess of 
beauty, from the waves. They caught her as she was sport- 
ing on the beach. They courted her while she was spreading 
her nets upon the rocks. But an embargo liberty, a hand- 
cuffed liberty, liberty in fetters, a liberty traversing between 



196 orator's maxual. 

the four sides of a prison and beating her head against the 
walls, is none of our offspring. We abjure the monster ! Its 
parentage is all inland. 

Is embargo independence? Deceive not yourselves! It 
is palpable submission! Gentlemen exclaim, "Great Britain 
smites us on one cheek! " And what does Administration? 
" It turns the other, also." Gentlemen say, "Great Britain 
is a robber; she takes our cloak." And what says Adminis- 
tration? " Let her take our coat, also." France and Great 
Britain require you to relinquish a part of your commerce, 
and you yield it entirely! At every corner of this great city 
we meet some gentlemen of the majority wringing their 
hands and exclaiming, "What shall we do? Nothing but 
an embargo will save us. Remove it and what shall we do? " 
Sir, it is not for me, an humble and uninfluential individual, 
at an awful distance from the predominant influences, to 
suggest plans of government. But, to my eye, the path of 
our duty is as distinct as the Milky Way, — all studded with 
living sapphires, glowing with cumulating light. It is the 
path of active preparation, of dignified energy. It is the 
path of 1776! It consists not in abandoning our rights, but 
in supporting them, as they exist, and where they exist, — 
on the ocean as well as on the land. But I shall be told, 
"This may lead to war." I ask, "Are we now at peace?" 
Certainly not, unless retiring from insult be peace; unless 
shrinking under the lash be peace! The surest way to pre- 
vent war is not to fear it. The idea that nothing on earth is 
so dreadful as war is inculcated too studiously among us. 
Disgrace is worse! Abandonment of essential rights is 
worse ! 

27. CICERO AGAINST VERRES.-ifam^s Tullius Cicero. 

I ask now, Yerres, what you have to advance against 
this charge. Will you pretend to deny it? Will you pre- 
tend that anything false, that even anything aggravated, 



SELECTioxs FOR declamatio:n'. 197 

is alleged against you? Had any prince, or any state, 
committed the same outrage against the privilege of Roman 
citizens, should we not think we had sufficient ground for 
declaring immediate war against them? What punishment 
ought, then, to be inflicted upon a tyrannical and wicked 
praetor, who dared, at no greater distance than Sicily, with- 
in sight of the Italian coast, to put to the infamous death 
of crucifixion that unfortunate and innocent citizen, Pub- 
lius Gavius Cosanus, only for his having asserted his privi- 
lege of citizenship, and declared his intention of appealing 
to the justice of his countr}^ against a cruel oppressor who 
had unjustly confined him in prison at Syracuse, whence he 
had just made his escape? 

The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to embark 
for his native country, is brought before the wicked praetor. 
With eyes darting fury, and a countenance distorted with 
cruelty, he orders the helpless victim of his rage to be 
stripped, and rods to be brought; accusing him, but without 
the least shadow of evidence, or even of suspicion, of having 
come to Sicily as a spy. It was in vain that the unhappy 
man cried out, " I am a Roman citizen: I have served under 
Lucius Pretius, who is now at Panormus and will attest my 
innocence." 

The blood-thirsty praetor, deaf to all he could urge in 
his own defense, ordered the infamous punishment to be 
inflicted. Thus, Fathers, was an innocent Roman citizen 
publicly mangled with scourging; while the only words he 
uttered amid his cruel sufferings were, " I am a Roman citi- 
zen ! " With these he hoped to defend himself from violence 
and infamy. But of so little service was this privilege to 
him, that, while he was thus asserting his citizenship, the 
order was given for his execution, — for his execution upon 
the cross! 

liberty! sound once delightful to every Roman ear! 
Q sacred privilege of Roman citizenship! — once sacred! 



198 orator's manual. 

now trampled upon! But what then! — Is it come to this? 
Shall an inferior magistrate, a governor, who holds his 
whole power of the Roman people, in a Roman province, 
within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture with fire and 
red-hot plates of iron, and at last put to the infamous death 
of the cross, a Roman citizen? Shall neither the cries of 
innocence expiring in agony, nor the tears of pitying spec- 
tators, nor the majesty of the Roman Commonwealth, nor 
the fear of the justice of his country, restrain the licentious 
and wanton cruelty of a monster who, in confidence of his 
riches, strikes at the root of liberty and sets mankind at 
defiance? 

I conclude with expressing my hopes that your wisdom 
and justice, Fathers, will not, by suffering the atrocious and 
unexampled insolence of Caius Verres to escape the due 
punishment, leave room to apprehend the danger of a total 
subversion of authority and the introduction of general an- 
archy and confusion. 

28. BRITISH INFLUENCE, 1811.— John Randolph. 

Imputations of British | influence have been uttered against the 
opponents of this war. Against whom are these charges brought? 
Against men who, in the war of the Revolution, were in the Cdun- 

w 1 RO 

oils of the nation, or fighting the battles of your country! And by 

IRQ w to 1 8 

whom are these charges made? By runaways, chiefly from the 

R O 

British dominions, since the breaking out of the French troubles. 

w to 1 L O 

The great autocrat of all the Russias receives the homage of our 
1 LO w to 1 RO 1 RO 

high consideration. The Dey of Algiers and his divan of pirates are 

1 RO 1 RO down 
very civil, good sort of people, with whom we find no difficulty in 

1 f LO f LO 1 
maintaining the relations of peace and amity. "Turks, Jews and 
fLO wto Is LOlsLOl 

Infidels," or the barbarians and savages of every chme and color, are 
f LOlfsLO IfBO wider B O wider B O down 

welcome to our arms. With chiefs of banditti, negro or mulatto, we 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 199 

1 ^ BO w R C 

can treat, and can trade. Name, however, but England, and all our 

to br and to m s R C w tr turn to R O w 

antipathies are up in arms against her. Against whom? Against 
tr to br R C F br R C F 

those whose blood runs in our | v&ins; in common with whom we 

fRO IR 01s RO IRO 

claim Shakspeare, and Newton, and Chatham, for our countrymen; 

w 1 L O L C Ft on waist and 

whose government | is the freest on earth, our own only | excepted; 

. bold 
from I whom every valuable principle of our own institutions has 

1 LO 
been borrowed — representation, trial by jury, voting the supplies, 
1 B O m B O w 

writ of habeas corpus — our whole civil and criminal jurisprudence; 
br B C to f B C 

— against our fellow-Protestants, identified in blood, in language, in 

1 BO 

religion, with ourselves. 

In what school did the worthies of our land — the Washingtons, 

1 fRO 
Henrys, Hancocks, Franklins, Rutledges, of America — learn those 

w to 1 s R 

principles of civil liberty which were so nobly asserted by their wis- 
O 
dom and valor? American resistance to British usurpation has not 

been more warmly | cherished by these great men and their com- 

IfLOlfLOl fLO 1 

patrioti=. — not more by Washington, Hancock and Henry, — than by 

sLO _ IsLO 

Chatham and his illustrious associates in the British Parliament. It 
R C F on br 1 

ought to be remembered, too, that the hfeart of the English people 

R O 
was with us. It was a selfish and corrupt ministry, and their servile 

1 f RO s R o 

tools, to whom we were not more opposed than they were. I trust 
1 f BO 1 8 

that none such may ever exist among us; for tools will n^ver be 

wanting to subserve the purposes, however ruinous or wicked, of 

kings and ministers of state. I acknowledge the influence of a 

Shakspeare and a Milton upon my imagination; of a Locke upon 

1 f RO 1 f s 

my understanding; of a Sidney upon my political principles; of a 
R O h R O 1 R 

Chatham upon qualities which | would to God | I possessed in com- 



200 orator's ma^s'ual. 

O 1 f R O 1 f s RO 1 8 R 

mon with that illustrious man! of a Tillotson, a Sherlock and a Por- 
O w to br R C F w to R O 1 B C 

teus upon my religion. This is a British influence which I can never | 
shake | off. 

29. IRISH AGITATORS, l^U.-Richard L. SheU. 

The population of Ireland has doubled since the Union. 
What is the condition of the mass of the people? Has her 
capital increased in the same proportion? Behold the fam- 
ine, the wretchedness and pestilence of the Irish hovel, and 
if you have the heart to do so, mock at the calamities of 
the country, and proceed in your demonstrations of the 
prosperity of Ireland. The mass of the people are in a con- 
dition more vi^retched than that of any nation in Europe; 
they are worse housed, worse covered, worse fed, than the 
basest boors in the provinces of Eussia; they dwell in hab- 
itations to which your swine would not be committed; they 
are covered with rags which your beggars would disdain to 
wear, and not only do they never taste the flesh of the ani- 
mals which crowd into your markets, but while the sweat 
drops from their brows, they never touch the bread into 
which their harvests are converted. For you they toil, for 
you they delve ; they reclaim the bog, and drive the plow to 
the mountain's top, for you. And where does all this mis- 
ery exist? In a country teeming with fertility, and stamped 
with the beneficent intents of God! When the famine of 
Ireland prevailed, — when her cries crossed the Channel, and 
pierced your ears and reached your hearts, — the granaries 
of Ireland were bursting with their contents; and while a 
people knelt down and stretched out their hands for food, 
the business of deportation, the absentee tribute, was going 
on ! Talk of the prosperity of Ireland ! Talk of the external 
magnificence of a poor-house, gorged with misery within! 

But the Secretary for the Treasury exclaims: "If the 
agitators would but let us alone, and allow Ireland to be 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIONS'. 201 

tranquil!" The agitators, forsooth I Does he venture — has 
he the intrepidity — to speak thus? i^gitators! Against 
deep potations let the drunkard rail; — at Crockford's let 
there be homilies against the dice-box; — let every libertine 
lament the progress of licentiousness, when his Majesty's 
ministers deplore the influence of demagogues, and whigs 
complain of agitation! How did you carry the Reform? 
Was it not by impelling the people almost to the verge of 
revolution? Was there a stimulant for their passions, was 
there a provocative for their excitement, to which you did 
not resort? If you have forgotten, do you think that we 
shall fail to remember, your meetings at Edinburgh, at 
Paisley, at Manchester, at Birmingham? Did not three 
hundred thousand men assemble? Did they not pass reso- 
lutions against taxes? Did they not threaten to march on 
London? Did not two of the cabinet ministers indite to 
them epistles of gratitude and of admiration? and do they 
now dare — have they the audacity — to speak of agitation? 
Have we not as good a title to demand the restitution of 
our Parliament, as the ministers to insist on the reform of 
this House? 

30. MILITARY QUALIFICATIONS DISTINCT FROM CIVIL, 1828. 

It has been maintained that the genius which constitutes 
a great military man is a very high quality, and may be 
equally useful in the cabinet and in the field, — that it has 
a sort of universality equally applicable to all affairs. That 
the greatest civil qualifications may be found united with 
the highest military talents is what no one will deny who 
thinks of Washington. But that such a combination is rare 
and extraordinary, the fame of Washington sufficiently at- 
tests. If it were common, why was he so illustrious? 

I would ask, what did Cromwell, with all his military 
genius, do for England? He overthrew the monarchy and 



202 orator's manual. 

he established dictatorial power in his own person. And 
what happened next? Another soldier overthrew the dic- 
tatorship and restored the monarchy. The sword effected 
both. Cromwell made one revolution, and Monk another. 
And what did the people of England gain by it? Nothing. 
Absolutely nothing! The rights and liberties of Englishmen; 
as they now exist, were settled and established at the Revo- 
lution in 1688. Now, mark the difference! By whom was 
that revolution begun and conducted? Was it by soldiers? 
by military genius? by the sword? No! It was the work 
of statesmen and of eminent lawyers, — men never distin- 
guished for military exploits. The faculty — the dormant 
faculty — may have existed. That is what no one can affirm 
or deny. But it would have been thought an absurd and 
extravagant thing to propose, in reliance upon this possible 
dormant faculty, that one of those eminent statesmen and 
lawyers should be sent, instead of the Duke of Marlborough, 
to command the English forces on the continent! 

Who achieved the freedom and the independence of this 
our own country? Washington effected much in the field; 
but where were the Franklins, the Adamses, the Hancocks, 
the Jeffersons, and the Lees, — the band of sages and patri- 
ots whose memory we revere? They were assembled in 
council. The heart of the Revolution beat in the halls of 
Congress. There was the power which, beginning with ap- 
peals to the king and to the British nation, at length made 
an irresistible appeal to the world, and consummated the 
Revolution by the declaration of independence, which Wash- 
ington established with their authority, and bearing their 
commission, supported by arms. And what has this band of 
patriots, of sages and of statesmen given to us? Not what 
Caesar gave to Rome; not what Cromwell gave to England, 
or Napoleon to France: they established for us the great 
principles of civil, political and religious liberty, upon the 
strong foundations on which the" have hitherto stood. There 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 203 

may have been military capacity in Congress; but can any 
one deny that it is to the wisdom of sages, — Washington 
being one, — we are indebted for the signal blessings we 
enjoy? 

213. Antithetical and Ironical: Circumflex Inflections. 

Predominating Compound Stress (§ 103) on emphatic syllables. 

31 . THE RIGHT TO TAX A^l'ERICA.— Edmund Burke. 

1. " But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America." Oh, 

inestimable right I Oh, w6Ederful, transcendent right! the assertion 

of which has cost this country thirteen | provinces, six | islands, one 

1 
hundred | thousand | lives, and seventy | millions | of money! Oh, 

R O w R C tr to br 

invaluable right! for the sake of which we have sacrificed our rank | 
RC wRCtomsRC w trtof 

among nations, | our importance | abroad, | and our happiness | at 

R O 1 R O 

home ! Oh, right, more dear to us than our existence, | which has 

1 
already cost us so | much, I and which seems | likely | to cost us our 

BO I f 

all! Infatuated | man! miserable | and undone | country! not to 

ROF 1 f O F w 1 s R C 

know that the claim of right, without the power | of enforcing it, | 

sRC s RC wRCFtto waist 

is nugatory | and idle. We have a right to tax America, the noble 

1 R O 
lord tells us, therefore we ought to tax America. This is the pro- 

1 BO 1 B O 

found I logic | which comprises the whole | chain | of his reasoning. 

2. Not inferior to this | was the wisdom of him | who resolved 

wl RO R O 

to shear | the wolf. What, shear a wolf! Have you considered the 

w 1 s L C 
resistance, | the difficulty, | the danger, | of the attempt? No, says 

w tr to L C Ft on waist 
the madman, I have considered nothing but the right. Man has a 

1 L O 1 L O 

right of dominion over the beasts of the forest; and, th&refore, I will 
1 BO w h B C tr and to h B C 

shear the wolf. How wonderful that a nation could be thus deluded! 

But the noble lord dfeals in cheats and deKisions. They are the daily | 

traffic of his invention; and he will continue to play off his cheats 



204 orator's manual, 

1 R O 
on this house, so long as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, 

1 R O snatch to waist 

and so long as he has money enough at command to bribe ] gentle- 

1 R O f R O slowly 

men to pretend | that they believe him. But a black | and bitter 

lift h C ^ shake h C 

day of reckoning | will surely come; and whenever that day comes, 

I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary impeachment, to bring 

h c ^ pr , ^ . ^ 

upon the heads of the authors of our calamities the punishment they 
deserve. 

32. THE PARTITION OF POLAND, I9,m.— Charles J. Fox. 

Now, sir, what was the conduct of your own allies to Poland? 
Is there a single | atrocity | of the French in Italy, in Switzerland, 
in Egypt, if you please, more unprincipled and inhuman than that 
of Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in Poland? What has there been 

1 w R o ^ 1 R o 

in the conduct of the French to foreign powers; what in the viola- 

IfROF IfROFw IRC wl 

tion of solemn [ treaties; what in the plimder, devastation, and dis- 

8 R C 1 f R OF 1 f 

ra^mberment of unoffending countries; what in the horrors and 
ROFwRCto 
murders perpetrated upon the subdued victims of their rage in any 

m s C s C and down 

district which they have overrun, — w6rse than the conduct of those 

three | great | powers in the miserable, devoted, and tiampled-on 

1 B O 

Kingdom of Poland, and who have been, or are, our | allies in this 

war for religion, social | order, and the rights of nations? 6, but 
w L C back w L C back 

you "regretted the partition of Poland!" Yes, regretted! — you 

1 L O w back L C 1 f B O 

regretted the violence, and that is all you did. You united your- 

1 8 B O 1 B O 

selves with the Actors; you, in fact, by your acquiescence, confirmed 
1 B O exaggerated B O wide 

the atrocity. But thev are your allies; and though they overran and 

ROwmtrRCtos EC msRC 

divided Poland, there was nothing, perhaps, in the manner of doing 

m 8 prone R C and down 

it which stamped it with peculiar infamy and disgrace. The hero 

of Poland, perhaps, was merciful and mild! He was "as much 
1 L O w tr and to s m 

luperior to Bonaparte in bravery, and in the discipline which he 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 205 

L C w tr and to m s L C down 

maintained, as he was superior in virtue and humanity! He was 

w to br R C ^ 

animated by the piirest principles of Christianity, and was restrained 

IRQ exaggerated R O 
in his career by the benevolent precepts which it inculcates! " Was 
he? 

m s L C F ^ . "^ ^^ ^^^ 

Let unfortunate Warsaw, and the miserable inhabitants of the 
to 8 L F down 

suburb of Priig-a in particular, | t^ll! What do we understand to 

have been the conduct of this magnanimous h^ro, with whom, it 
1 f R O 1 8 R O 

seems, Bonaparte is not to be compared? (fast) He entered the 
m 8 C w m 

suburb of Praga, the most populous suburb of Warsaw, and there 
tr C _ and to ms C sC ^.^. 

he let his soldiery loose on the miserable, unarmed and unresisting 

hsChsC hsCwtr^to brC 

people! Men, women and children, — nay, infants at the breast, — 

w to m s c 

were doomed to one | indiscriminate | massacre! Thousands of them 

B O Ft w 1 B O 

were inhumanly, wantonly butchered! And (sloiv) for what? Be- 
cause they had dared | to join in a wish | to meliorate their own con- 
dition as a People, and to improve their Constitution, which had 

m LOmLO IL O 

been confessed, by their own | sovereign, to be in want of am^nd- 
1 L O w tr to br B C ^ and 

ment. And such is the hero upon whom the cause of " religion and 

to ^ niBC prone 1 B O 
social order " is to repose ! And such is the man whom we praise 

for his discipline and his virtue, and whom we hold out as our boast 

1 R O w R C 

and our dependence; while the conduct of Bonaparte unfits him to 
be even treated with as an fenemy! 



CATILINE TO THE GALLIC CONSPIRATORS.-i?e«. George Croly. 

Men of Gaul ! 
What would you give for Freedom? — 
w m tr R C to f m R C 
For Freedom, | if it stood before your ^yes; 

w m R C to waist C Ft 
For Freedom, | if it rushed to your embrace; 

w R C Ft to 8 C Ft 
For Freedom, | if its sword were ready drawn 



206 orator's manual. 

w turn to IRQ 
To hew your chains off? 
Ye would give death | or life ! Then marvel not 

If , LO 1 s f LO 

That I am here — that Catiline would join you! — 

w 1 s L O bk R O 

The great Patrician ? — Yes — an hour ago — 

w to R C Ft on waist w to m f R C 
But now I the r&bel; R5me's eternal foe, 

1 L O 1 LO 

And your | sworn | frifend! My desperate wrong's my pledge 

There's not in Rome, — no — not upon the earth, 

BO w 1 B C tr to 1 B O 

A man so wronged. The very ground I tread 
1 B C Ft crossed w 1 BO 
Is griidged me. — Chieftains ! ere the moon be down, 

R o 
My land will be the Senate's | spoil; my life, 

w tr to R C Ft on waist 

The mark of the first villain that will stab 

w to h C F and sliake h R C 

For lucre, — Bat there's a time at hand! — Gaze on! 

If I had thought you cowards, I might have come 

8 LO f 

And told you lies. But you have now the thing 
LO 1 L OFt 1 O Ft 

I am; — Rome's fenemy, — and fixed | as fate | 

ILO sLO 

To you I and yours | forever! 

The State I is weak as dust, 

lift 
Rome's | broken, | helpless, | he^rt-sick. Vengeance sits 

h R C 

Above her, like a vulture | o'er a corpse, 
down tol RC w 1 tr RC 

Soon to be tasted. Time, and dull decay, 

to . ^ ^ . ^^ ^ 

Have let the waters round her pillar's foot; 

IRC h 8 RC 

And it must | fall. Her boasted strength's | a ghost, 

1 8 R C w to C Ft on waist 

Fearful to dastards; — yet, to trenchant swords, 

w to h f RC 
Thin as the passing air ! A single | blow, 

In this diseased and crumbling state of Rome, 

w tr B C to 1 bk B C 
Would break your chains like stubble. 
But "ye've | no | swords "! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 207 

f R O f sR O 

Have you no ploughshares, | scythes ? 

w tr R C Ft to waist 1 f R O 1 s R O 
When men are brave, the sickle is a spear! 

si w m R C tr slowly 

Must Freedom ] pine 1 1 till the slow || armorer || 

toward br w slowly to 

Gilds ( her caparison, | and sends her out li 

m 8 R C lift to h C 

To glitter || and play | antics | in the sun? 

wtobrRCF wtomfRC prone 

Let hearts be what they ought, — the naked earth 

w to s R C prone s R C up 

Will be their magazine ; — the rocks — the trees — 

1 bk C down 

Nay, there 's no | idle and unnoted thing, 

f R O thrust f R C 

But, in the hand of Valor, | will out-thrust | 

w m R C m C prone 

The sp^ar, and make the mail | a mockery ! 

34. CATILINE'S DEFIANCE.-iJev. George Oroty. 

{p P) Conscript Fathers, 

I do not rise to waste the night in w6rds ; 
w 1 sRO 1 R O O 

Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my || trade; 

IRQ w a R O 

(/ 0) But here I stand for right — let him show proofs — 

1 R o 
(A) For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand 
1 BO m f BO 

To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there! 
m f B 
(G) Cling to your mister! || Judges, | Romans, | slaves — 

fmRC ^ m ^^O 

(ff) His charge is f^lse; I dare him to his proofs. 

1 bk B O 
(/ 0) You have my answer. Let my actions | speak ! 

(p) But this I will avow, that I have scorned, 
brRCF 
And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong! 

Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, 

Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, 

wmsRC wtrCtomsC 

Wrongs me not half so mTich as he who shuts 
w m tr C 
{/A) The gates of honor on me — turning out 



208 orator's manual. 

to m s C 

The Roman from his birthright; and, | for | what? 
1 L O 

{ff G-) To fling your ofiices to every slave ! — 

L O lift sLCto hsLC 

Vipers | that creep where men | disdain | to climb, 
hold 
And, having wound their loathsome track to the top 

Of this huge, | mouldering | monument | of Rome, 
shake h L C drop L C 

{A G) Hang | hissing at the nobler man | below! 

w bkRC 
(/ A 0) Banished from Rome! What's banished but set free 

m f RC 

iff G) From daily contact with the things I loathe ? 

1 RO RO 

if A 0) "Tried and convicted | traitor! " Who | says | this? 

IRQ snatch to Ft on waist and hold 
iff (^^ Who'll prove it, |at his peril, | on my head? 

w 1 R O w 1 s R C 

{/A 0) Banished! I thank you for't. It breaks my chain! 

(jo) I held some slack allegiance till this hour; 

IRO^ IRO wfmRC 

(/) But now I my sword's | my own. Smile on, my lords! 

w tr R C to br C F br C F 

{ff) I scorn to count what feelings, withered | hopes, 

br C F _ br CF 

{A G) Strong | provocations, | bitter, | burning | wrongs, 

brCF 
{p A) I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 

w br C to ra f s R ^ C 
(/) To leave you in your lazy | dignities. 

w m R C tr to m f C w m R C tr 

{ff A G) But here I stand and scoff you ! here, I fling 
to m f R C and drop 
Hatred and full defiance in your face ! 

w 1 BO 
{p sl A 0) Your consul's | merciful — for this | all | thanks: 

1 E O Ft 1 R O 

(/) He dares not | touch | a hair | of Catiline ! 

1 f B O wide B O 
{AG) " Traitor ! " I go ; but 1 1 1 1 1 return. This 1 1 trial ? 

1 BO 

{ff) Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs 

brRCF 

(Gr ) To stir a fhvei in the blood of age, 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATION". 209 

1 RO 1 R OFt 1 R OFt 

Or make the infant's | sin*nvs | strong | as stt^el. 
1 R O down 
{/) This day's | the birth of sorrow I This hour's "work 

1 BO s R C F 

(A) Will breed proscriptions! Look to your hearths, my 

lords ! 
8 R C F 
iff A 0) For there, henceforth, shall sit, | for household gods, | 
change to sRCh sCh sCh 

Shapes | hot from Tartarus! — all shames | and crimes! 
s C h w tr to R C Ft^ on waist and 1 R O 
Wan Treachery, | with his thirsty | dagger | drawn; | 
1 R O change to 1 f R C pr 
Suspicion, | poisoning his brother's clip; | 

slowly lift E C 

Naked Rebellion, | with the torch and axe, | 

h R C f 
Making his wild | sport | of your blazing | thrones; 

h B C f drop to m B C pr 
Till Anarchy | come down on you | like night, [ 

h B C f drop to 1 B C 

And massacre || seal | Rome's || eternal II grave! 



35. REPLY TO MR. CORRY.— ^enry Ch^attan. 

Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done? He 
was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of his 
speech. There was scarce a word he uttered that was not a 
violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call 
him to order, — why? because the limited talents of some 
men render it impossible for them to be severe tvithoiit 
being unparliamentary. But before I sit down I shall 
show him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same 
time. 

The right honorable gentleman has called me "an unim- 
peached traitor." I ask why not " traitor," unqualified by 
any epithet? I will tell him: it was because he durst not. 
It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but 
has not courage to give the blow. I will not call him vil- 
lain, because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy 
counselor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to 
9* 



210 OEATOR*S MANUAL. 

be chancellor of the exchequer. But I say, he is one who has 
abused the privilege of Parliament and the freedom of de- 
bate, by uttering language which, if spoken out of the 
House, I should answer only with a hlow. I care not how 
high his situation, how low his character, how contemptible 
his speech; whether a privy counselor or a parasite, my an- 
swer would be a blow. 

He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. 
The charge is utterly, totally and meanly false. Does the 
honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of 
Lords for the foundation of his assertion? If he does, I can 
prove to the committee there was a physical impossibility of 
that report being true. 

I have returned, — not as the right honorable member 
has said, to raise another storm, — I have returned to dis- 
charge an honorable debt of gratitude to my country, that 
conferred a great reward for past services, which, I am 
proud to say, was not greater than my desert. I have re- 
turned to protect that Constitution of which I was the par- 
ent and founder from the assassination of such men as the 
right honorable gentleman and his unworthy associates. 
They are corrupt, they are seditious, and they, at this very 
moment, are in a conspiracy against their country. I have 
returned to refute a libel, as false as it is malicious, given 
to the public under the appellation of a report of the com- 
mittee of the Lords. Here I stand, ready for impeachment 
or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the honorable gentle- 
man; I defy the government; I defy their whole phalanx; 
let them come forth. I tell the ministers I will neither 
give quarter nor take it. I am here to lay the shattered 
remains of my constitution on the floor of this House in 
defense of the liberties of my country. 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATIOiT. 211 

Simple Antithesis (§ 72). 

36. OUR RELATIONS TO ENGLAND, 1824. - Edtoard Everett. 

Who does not feel, what reflecting American does not 
acknowledge, the incalculable advantages derived by this 
land out of the deep fountains of civil, intellectual and 
moral truth, from which we have drawn in England? What 
American does not feel proud that his fathers were the 
countrymen of Bacon, of Newton, and of Locke? Who does 
not know that, while every pulse of civil liberty in the heart 
of the British empire beat warm and full in the bosom of our 
ancestors, the sobriety, the firmness, and the dignity, with 
which the cause of free principles struggled into existence 
here, constantly found encouragement and countenance from 
the friends of liberty there? Who does not remember that, 
when the Pilgrims went over the sea, the prayers of the 
faithful British confessors, in all the quarters of their dis- 
persion, went over with them, while their aching eyes were 
strained till the star of hope should go up in the western 
skies? And who will ever forget that, in that eventful 
struggle which severed these youthful republics from the 
British crown, there was not heard, throughout our con- 
tinent in arms, a voice which spoke louder for the rights of 
America than that of Burke, or of Chatham, within the 
walls of the British Parliament, and at the foot of the 
British throne? 

I am not — I need not say I am not — the panegyrist of 
England. I am not dazzled by her riches, nor awed by her 
power. The sceptre, the mitre, and the coronet, — stars, 
garters, and blue ribbons, — seem to me poor things for 
great men to contend for. Nor is my admiration awakened 
by her armies, mustered for the battles of Europe; her 
navies, overshadowing the ocean; nor her empire, grasping 
the farthest East. It is these, and the price of guilt and 
blood by which they are too often maintained, which are 



212 orator's manual. 

the cause why no friend of liberty can salute her with 
undivided affections. But it is the cradle and the refuge of 
free principles, though often persecuted; the school of reli- 
gious liberty, the more precious for the struggles through 
which it has passed; the tombs of those who have reflected 
honor on all who speak the English tongue ; it is the birth- 
place of our fathers, the home of the Pilgrims; — it is these 
which I love and venerate in England. I should feel 
ashamed of an enthusiasm for Italy and Greece, did I not 
also feel it for a land like this. In an American, it would 
seem to me degenerate and ungrateful to hang with passion 
upon the traces of Homer and Virgil, and follow, without 
emotion, the nearer and plainer footsteps of Shakspeare and 
Milton. I should think him cold in his love for his native 
land who felt no melting in his heart for that other native 
country which holds the ashes of his forefathers. 

37. ROLLA'S ADDRESS TO THE PERUVIANS.— i?. B. Sheridan. 

My brave associates, — partners of my toil, my feelings, and my 
fame! — can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous energies which 

1 sRO If^RO wsRC 

inspire your hearts? No! You have judged, as I have, the foiil- 

w s RC 
ness of the crafty pl^a by which these bold invaders would delude 

you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives 

1 s L plf LOlsLO 

which in a war like this, can animate their minds and oars. They, 
m s LO 1 LOFt wlLCto 

by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for pKmder, and extended 
side 1 R O 1 s R O 1 RO 

rule: we, for our coi!mtry, our altars, and our homes. They follow 
w msLC msLC 

an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate: 

1 R O hRO^ 

we serve a monarch whom we love — a God whom we adore. When- 
w s L C to waist w s L C tr L 

e'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress! Whene'er 

C to br L C w to m 8 C 

they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. They boast 

f B O wide BO ^ ^^^ 

they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 213 

to s B C exaggerated m BO 

from the yoke of error! Yes; the}^ will give enlightened freedom to 
mBO 1 BC brRC 

our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and 

F w R C to m C pr lift to h^ C 

pride ! They ofier us their protection : yes, such protection as viiltures 

h R C shake h R C 1 R C 

g^ve to lambs — covering and devouring them! They call on us 

w 1 B C back 

to barter all of good we have enhanced and proved, for the desperate 

1 BO 1 BO 

chance of something better which they | promise. Be our plain 

f RO Is R O _ 

answer this: — The throne we honor is the people's | choice; the 
s R O s and back R O w 

laws we reverence are our brave j fathers' legacy; the faith we follow 

to 1 f R o s R o 

teaches us to live | in bonds of charity with all | mankind, and die | 

b R C F 1 R O 

with hope of bliss | beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this; and 
w m IBC 1 B C 1 

tell them, too, we seek no change, —and, least of all, siich change as 
B O 
they would bring us ! 

38. C^SAR PASSING THE RUBICON.— J". S. Enowles. 

A gentlemen, speaking of Csesar's benevolent disposition, 
and of the reluctance with which he entered into the civil 
war, observes, " How long did he pause upon the brink of the 
Rubicon? " How came he to the brink of that river? How 
dared he cross it? Shall a private man respect the bounda- 
ries of private propert}^ and shall a man pay no respect to the 
boundaries of his country's rights? How dared he cross that 
river ? — Oh ! but he paused upon the brink. He should have 
perished on the brink, ere he had crossed it! Why did he 
pause? — Why does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the 
point of committing an unlawful deed? Why does the very 
murderer, his victim sleeping before him, and his glaring eye 
taking the measure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal 
part? Because of conscience! 'T was that made Caesar 
pause upon the brink of the Rubicon ! — Compassion ! What 
compassion? The compassion of an assassin, that feels a 



214 orator's manual. 

momenlaiy shudder, as bis weapon begins to cut! — Caesar 
paused upon the brink of the Rubicon ! What was the Rubi- 
con? The boundary of Caesar's province. From what did it 
separate his province? From his country. Was that country 
a desert? No; it was cultivated and fertile, rich and popu- 
lous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity! 
Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste! Friend- 
ship was its inhabitant! Love was its inhabitant! Domes- 
tic affection was its inhabitant! Liberty was its inhabitant! 
All bounded by the stream of the Rubicon! What was 
Caesar, that stood upon the brink of that stream ? A traitor, 
bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that country ! 
No wonder that he paused, — no wonder if, his imagination 
wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood instead 
of water, and heard groans instead of murmurs ! No wonder 
if some gorgon horror had turned him into stone upon the 
spot! But, no! he cried, "The die is cast!" He plunged! 
he crossed! and Rome was free no more! 

214. Graphic, Delineative Style : Anecdotes and their 
Applications. As a rule, on objects referred to, use a downward 
bend or inflection (§ 50), and sometimes the circumfiex (§§ 69, 70). 
These objects should be articulated distinctly, which will tend to 
make the predominating terminal stress (§ 101) short and sharp, or 
chang-e it to initial stress (§ 100). When, again, there is vcmohdrift 
(§ 154) the terminal will become median stress (§ 102). 

Orotund Quality. Toward the end of each selection this orotund 
may be aspirated (§§ 135, 136). 

39. THE LAST CHARGE OF NEY.— J. T. Headley, 

The whole | contmental [ struggle | exhibited nosublimer | spec- 
tacle than the last | great | effort | of Napoleon | to save | his sink- 
ing I Empire. Europe | had been put | upon the plains | of Waterloo | 
to be battled for. The greatest | mihtary | energy | and skill | the 
world I po.^s^.ssed | had been tasked t-o the utmost | during the day. 

w 
Thrones | were tottoring | on the ensanguined | field. |and the shad- 

tr m f . R w R C to m s R C 

0W8 I of fugitive | kings | flitted | through the smoke | of battle, 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATION. 215 

h R CF h R C 

Bonaparte's | star | trembled | in the zenith, | now | blazing out , m 

m f R C prone and down 

its ancient | splendor, | now | suddenly | paling \ before his anxious | 
^ye. 

(At length, when the Prussians appeared on the field, he resolved 
to stake Europe on one bold throw. He committed himself and 
France to Ney, and saw his empire rest on a single charge. The 
intense anxiety with which he watched the advance of the column, 
the tei-rible suspense he suffered when the smoke of battle concealed 
it from sight, and the utter despair of his great heart when the cur- 
tain lifted over a fugitive army, and the despairing shriek rang out 
on every side, "La garde recule. La garde recule," make us, for the 
moment, forget all the carnage, in sympathy with his distress.) 

Ney felt the pressure | of the immense | responsibility | on his 

tr to 
brave | heart, | and resolved | not to prove unworthy | of the great | 

brRCF ^^ tomsRC 

trust I committed to his care. Nothing | could be more | impos- 
ing i than the movement | of the grand [ column | to the assault. 

tvrn body to the right back BO 1 f B O ^ 

That guard | had never | yet | recoiled | before a human foe; and 

turn to the left m f _ ^ B C _ slowly drop 

the allied | forces | beheld | with awe | its firm | and terrible | ad- 

BC 
vance | to the final ] charge. 

For a moment | the batteries | stopped | playing, and the firing 
ceased along the British lines, | as | without the beating | of a drum, ! 

w msLC tomf LC 

or the blast | of a bugle, | they moved | in dead | silence | over 

w m f L o 
the plain. The next ] moment [ the artillery | opened, | and the 

f L C prone slowly 

head | of the gallant | column | seemed to sink | down; yet they 

drop L C Kft f B C 

neither stopped | nor faltered. Dissolving | squadrons | and whole [ 
f B drop B C slowly 

battalions | disappearing, | one after another, | in the destructive | 

1 f B o Ft 
fire, I affected not | their steady | coiirage. The ranks | closed up | 

turn to the right w 1 B C push 

as before, | and each, | treading over | his fallen | comrade, | 

B C forward 

pressed | firmly | on. Thehorse which Ney rode I ffell I under him, | 

1 R o 
and he had scarcely | mounted | another, | before it also | sank | to 



216 orator's manual. 

f R O 1 R O f h RC 

the &arth. Again and again | did that | unflinching | man j feel | 

wmsRCms RC 
his steed | sink down, | till five | had been shot | under him. 

h 
Then, | with his uniform | riddled | with bullets, | and his face | 

R C near face m f R C prone 

singed | and blackened | with powder, | he marched on foot, with 

m f R C prone 
drawn | sabre, | at the head | of his m^n. 

In vain | did the artillery | hurl its storm | of fire | and lead f 
twn to left — to right push f m B C forward 

into that living | mass; up to the very m lizzies they pressed, | and 

push f m B C forward push f ni B C 

driving the artillery-men | from their places, | pushed on | through 
forward w m R C F to m s R C F and 

the English | lines. But at that moment | a tile of soldiers, who 
change to m s C pr m s C 

had lain | flat | on the ground | behind a low | ridge | of earth, " 

s h R C w R C tr to R C Ft on waist turn to left 

suddenly rose | and poured a volley | into their very faces. Another 

slowly wmLCto sLC 

and another | followed, till one | broad | sheet of flame | rolled on 

L c 
their bosoms, and in such a fierce | and unexpected | flow, | that 
Ibk LC m LCsLCh 

human | courage | could not withstand it. They r&eled, || shook, || 

s L C w tr L C to br and to back L C 

staggered b^ck, || then turned || and fled. 

(The fate of Napoleon was writ. The star that had blazed so 
brightly over the world went down in blood; and the Bravest of the 
Brave had fought his last battle.) 

40. REGULUS TO THE CARTHAGINIANS.—^. Kellogg. 

The beams of the rising sun had gilded the lofty domes 
of Carthage, and given, with its rich and mellow light, a 
tinge of beauty even to the frowning ramparts of the outer 
harbor. Sheltered by the verdant shores, an hundred tri- 
remes were riding proudly at their anchors, their brazen 
beaks glittering in the sun, their streamers dancing in the 
morning breeze, while many a shattered plank and timber 
gave evidence of desperate conflicts with the fleets of Rome. 

No murmur of business or of revelry arose from the city. 
The artisan had forsaken his shop, the judge his tribunal, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 217 

the priest the sanctuary, and even the stern stoic had come 
forth from his retirement to mingle with the crowd that, 
anxious and agitated, were rushing toward the senate- 
house, startled by the report that Eegulus had returned to 
Carthage. 

Onward, still onward, trampling each other under foot, 
they rushed, furious with anger and eager for revenge. 
Fathers were there, whose sons were groaning in fetters; 
maidens, whose lovers, weak and wounded, were dying in 
the dungeons of Rome, and gray-haired men and matrons, 
whom the Roman sword had left childless. 

But when the stern features of Regulus were seen, and 
his colossal form towering above the ambassadors who had 
returned with him from Rome; when the news passed from 
lip to lip that the dreaded warrior, so far from advising the 
Roman senate to consent to an exchange of prisoners, had 
urged them to pursue, with exterminating vengeance, Car- 
thage and the Carthaginians, — the multitude swayed to and 
fro like a forest beneath a tempest, and the rage and hate of 
that tumultuous throng vented itself in groans, and curses, 
and yells of vengeance. But calm, cold and immovable as 
the marble walls around him stood the Roman; and he 
stretched out his hand over that frenzied crowd, with ges- 
ture as proudly commanding as though he still stood at the 
head of the gleaming cohorts of Rome. 

The tumult ceased; the curse, half muttered, died upon 
the lip; and so intense was the silence, that the clanking of 
the brazen manacles upon the wrists of the captive fell sharp 
and full upon every ear in that vast assembly, as he thus 
addressed them: 

"Ye doubtless thought — for ye judge of Roman virtue 

by your own — that I would break my plighted oath, rather 

than, returning, brook your vengeance. If the bright blood 

that fills my veins, transmitted free from godlike ancestry, 

10 



218 orator's manual. 

were like that slimy ooze which stagnates in your arteries, 
I had remained at home, and broke my plighted oath to 
save my life. 

"I am a Roman citizen; therefore have I returned, that 
ye might work your will upon this mass of flesh and bones, 
that I esteem no higher than the rags that cover them. 
Here, in your capital, do I defy you. Have I not conquered 
your armies, fired your towns, and dragged your generals at 
my chariot wheels, since first my youthful arms could wield 
a spear? And do you think to see me crouch and cower 
before a tamed and shattered senate? The tearing of flesh 
and rending of sinews is but pastime compared with the 
mental agony that heaves my frame. 

" The moon has scarce yet waned since the proudest of 
Rome's proud matrons, the mother upon whose breast I slept, 
and whose fair brow so oft had bent over me before the 
noise of battle had stirred my blood, or the fierce toil of war 
nerved my sinews, did with fondest memory of bygone hours 
entreat me to remain. I have seen her, who, when my 
country called me to the field, did buckle on my harness 
with trembling hands, while the tears fell thick and fast 
down the hard corselet scales, — I have seen her tear her gray 
locks and beat her aged breast, as on her knees she begged 
me not to return to Carthage; and all the assembled senate 
of Rome, grave and reverend men, proftered the same re- 
quest. The puny torments which ye have in store to wel- 
come me withal, shall be, to what I have endured, even as 
the murmur of a summer's brook to the fierce roar of angry 
surges on a rocky beach. 

" Last night, as I lay fettered in my dungeon, I heard a 
strange ominous sound: it seemed like the distant march of 
some vast army, their harness clanging as they marched, 
when suddenly there stood by me Xanthippus, the Spartan 
general, by whose aid you conquered me, and, with a voice 
low as when the solemn wind moans through the leafless 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 219 

forest, he thus addressed me: 'Roman, I come to bid thee 
curse, with thy dying breath, this fated city; know that in 
an evil moment, the Carthaginian generals, furious with 
rage that I had conquered thee, their conqueror, did basely 
murder me. And then they thought to stain my brightest 
honor. But, for this foul deed, the wrath of Jove shall rest 
upon them here and hereafter.' And then he vanished. 

" And now, go bring your sharpest torments. The woes 
I see impending over this guilty realm shall be enough to 
sweeten death, though every nerve and artery were a shoot- 
ing pang. I die ! but my death shall prove a proud triumph ; 
and, for every drop of blood ye from my veins do draw, 
your own shall flow in rivers. Woe to thee, Carthage ! Woe 
to the proud city of the waters ! I see thy nobles wailing 
at the feet of Roman senators! thy citizens in terror! thy 
ships in flames! I hear the victorious shouts of Rome! I 
see her eagles glittering on thy ramparts. Proud city, thou 
art doomed! The curse of God is on thee — a clinging, 
wasting curse. It shall not leave thy gates till hungry 
flames shall lick the fretted gold from off thy proud palaces, 
and every brook runs crimson to the sea." 

41. SPARTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS AT QK^JJK.—E. Kellogg. 

It had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus, re- 
turning with victorious eagles, had amused the populace 
with the sports of the amphitheatre to an extent hitherto 
unknown even in that luxurious city. The shouts of revelry 
had died away; the roar of the lion had ceased; the last 
loiterer had retired from the banquet, and the lights in the 
palace of the victor were extinguished. The. moon, piercing 
the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered the dew-drops on the 
corselet of the Roman sentinel, and tipped the dark waters 
of the Vulturnus with a wavy, tremulous light. No sound 
was heard, save the last sob of some retiring wave, telling 



220 orator's manual. 

its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach; and then all 
was still as the breast when the sjoirit has departed. In the 
deep recesses of the amphitheatre a band of gladiators were 
assembled, their muscles still knotted with the agony of con- 
flict, the foam upon their lips, the scowl of battle yet linger- 
ing on their brows, when Spartacus, starting forth from 
amid the throng, thus addressed them: 

" Ye call me chief; and ye do well to call him chief who, 
for twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape 
of man or beast the broad empire of Rome could furnish, 
and who never yet lowered his arm. If there be one among 
you who can say that ever, in public fight or private brawl, 
my actions did belie my tongue, let him stand forth and say 
it. If there be three in all your company dare face me on 
the bloody sands, let them come on. And yet I was not 
always thus, — a hired butcher, a savage chief of still more 
savage men! My ancestors came from old Sparta, and set- 
tled among the vine-clad rocks and citron-groves of Syra- 
sella. My early life ran quiet as the brooks by which I 
sported; and when at noon I gathered the sheep beneath 
the shade, and played upon the shepherd's flute, there was a 
friend, the son of a neighbor, to join me in the pastime. We 
led our flocks to the same pasture, and partook together of our 
rustic meal. One evening, after the sheep were folded, and 
we were all seated beneath the myrtle which shaded our 
cottage, my grandsire, an old man, was telling of Marathon 
and Leuctra, and how, in ancient times, a little band of 
Spartans, in a defile of the mountains, had withstood a whole » 
army. I did not then know what war was; but my cheeks 
burned, I knew not why, and I clasped the knees of that 
venerable man, until my mother, parting the hair from off 
my forehead, kissed my throbbing temples and bade me go 
to rest, and think no more of those old tales and savage 
wars. That very night the Romans landed on our coast. 
I saw the breast that had nourished me trampled by the 



SELECTION'S FOR DECLAMATION. 221 

hoof of the war-horse, the bleeding body of my father flung 
amidst the blazing rafters of our dwelling! 

" To-day I killed a man in the arena, and when I broke 
his helmet-clasps, behold! he was my friend. He knew me, 
smiled faintly, gasped, and died; — the same sweet smile 
upon his lips that I had marked, when, in adventurous boy- 
hood, we scaled the lofty cliff to pluck the first ripe grapes, 
and bear them home in childish triumph. I told the prsetor 
that the dead man had been my friend, generous and brave, 
and I begged that I might bear away the body, to burn it 
on a funeral pile, and mourn over its ashes. Ay, upon my 
knees, amid the dust and blood of the arena, I begged that 
poor boon, while all the assembled maids and matrons, and 
the holy virgins they call Vestals, and the rabble, shouted in 
derision, deeming it rare sport, forsooth, to see Rome's fierc- 
est gladiator turn pale and tremble at sight of that piece of 
bleeding clay. And the praetor drew back, as I were pollu- 
tion, and sternly said, 'Let the carrion rot; there are no 
noble men but Romans.' And so, ioilow- gladiators, must 
you, and so must I, die like dogs. Rome, Rome, thou 
hast been a tender nurse to me. Ay, thou hast given to 
that poor, gentle, timid shepherd lad, who never knew a 
harsher tone thg,n a flute-note, muscles of iron and a heart 
of flint; taught him to drive the sword through plaited mail 
and links of rugged brass, and warm it in the marrow of 
his foe; — to gaze into the glaring eye-balls of the fierce 
Numidian lion, even as a boy upon a laughing girl. And he 
shall pay thee back, until the yellow Tiber is red as frothing 
wine, and in its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies curdled. 

"Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are. The strength 
of brass is in your toughened sinews; but to-morrow some 
Roman Adonis, breathing sweet perfume from his curly 
locks, shall with his lily fingers pat your red brawn, and bet 
his sesterces upon your blood. Hark! hear ye yon lion 
roaring in his den? 'Tis three days since he tasted flesh, but 



222 orator's manual. 

to-morrow he shall break his fast upon yours, — and a dainty 
meal for him ye will be! If ye are beasts, then stand here 
like fat oxen, waiting for the butcher's knife! If ye are 
7ne7i, — follow me! Strike down yon guard, gain the moun- 
tain passes, and there do bloody work, as did your sires at 
Old Thermopylae. Is Sparta dead? Is the old Grecian spirit 
frozen in your veins, that you do crouch and cower like a 
belabored hound beneath his master's lash? comrades, 
warriors, Thracians, — if we must fight, let us fight for 
ourselves! If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our op- 
pressors! If we must die, let it be under the clear sky, by 
the bright waters, in noble, honorable battle ! " 

42. SPAETACUS TO THE ROMAN ENVOYS IN ETRURIA. 

Envoys of Rome, the poor camp of Spartacus is too much 
honored by your presence. And does Rome stoop to parley 
with the escaped gladiator, with the rebel rufiian, for whom 
heretofore no slight has been too scornful? You have come, 
with steel in your right hand and with gold in your left. 
What heed we give the former, ask Cossinius; ask Claudius, 
ask Varinius; ask the bones of your legions that fertilize 
the Lucanian plains. And for your gold — would ye know 
what we do with tJiat, go ask the laborer, the trodden poor, 
the helpless and the hopeless, on our route; ask all whom 
Roman tyranny had crushed, or Roman avarice plundered. 
Ye have seen me before; but ye did not then shun my 
glance as now. Ye have seen me in the arena, when I was 
Rome's pet ruffian, daily smeared with blood of men or 
beasts. One day — shall I forget it ever? — tje were present 
— I had fought long and well. Exhausted as I was, your 
milnSrator, your lord of the games, bethought him it were 
an equal match to set against me a new man, younger and 
lighter than I, but fresh and valiant. With Thracian sword 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 223 

and buckler, forth he came, a beautiful defiance on his brow! 
Bloody and brief the fight. "He has it!" cried the people; 
^^habet! habet!'"' But still he lowered not his arm, until, at 
length, I held him, gashed and fainting, in my power. I 
looked around upon the Podium, where sat your senators and 
men of state, to catch the signal of release — of mercy. But 
not a thumb was reversed. To crown your sport, the van- 
quished man must die ! Obedient brute that I was, I was 
about to slay him, when a few hurried words — rather a 
welcome to death than a plea for life — told me he was a 
Thracian. I stood transfixed. The arena vanished. I was in 
Thrace, upon my native hills ! The sword dropped from my 
hands. I raised the dying youth tenderly in my arms. 0, the 
magnanimity of Eome ! Your haughty leaders, enraged at 
being cheated of their death-show, hissed their disappoint- 
ment, and shouted, "Kill!" I heeded them as I would 
heed the howl of wolves. Kill hhn? — They might better 
have asked the mother to kill the babe, smiling in her face. 
Ah! he was already wounded unto death; and amid the 
angry yells of the spectators, he died. That night I was 
scourged for disobedience. I shall not forget it. Should 
memory fail, there are scars here to quicken it. 

Well; do not grow impatient. Some hours after, finding 
myself, with seventy fellow-gladiators, alone in the amphi- 
theatre, the laboring thought broke forth in words. I said, 
— I know not what. I only know that, when I ceased, my 
comrades looked each other in the face, and then burst forth 
the simultaneous cry, "Lead on! Lead on! Spartacus!" 
Forth we rushed, — seized what rude weapons chance threw 
in our way, and to the mountains speeded. There, day by 
day, our little band increased. Disdainful Rome sent after 
us a handful of her troops, with a scourge for the slave 
Spartacus. Their weapons soon were ours. She sent an 
army; and down from old Vesuvius we poured, and slew 
three thousand. Now it was Spartacus, the dreaded rebel! 



224 orator's maxual. 

A larger army, headed by the praetor, was sent, and routed; 
then another still. And always I remembered that fierce 
cry, jiving my heart, and calling me to "kill I "' In three 
pitched battles have I not obeyed it? And now affrighted 
Rome sends her two Consuls, and puts forth all her strength 
by land and sea, as if a Pyrrhus or a Hannibal were on her 
borders ! 

Envoys of Rome! To Lentulus and Gellius bear this 
message: "Their graves are measured!" Look on that nar- 
row stream, a silver thread, high on the mountain's side. 
Slenderly it winds, but soon is swelled by others meeting it, 
until a torrent, terrible and strong, it sweeps to the abyss, 
where all is ruin. So Spartacus comes on! So swells his 
force, — small and despised at first, but now resistless! On, 
on to Rome we come ! The gladiators come ! Let opulence 
tremble in all his palaces ! Let oppression shudder to think- 
the oppressed may have their turn! Let cruelty turn pale 
at thought of redder hands than his ! Oh ! we shall not forget 
Rome's many lessons. She shall not find her training was 
all wasted upon indocile pupils. Now, begone ! Prepare the 
Eternal City for our games! 

43. MARULLUS TO THE ROMAN 'POFJJL ACE. —Shakspeare. 

Wherefore rejoice that Caesar comes in triumph? 
What conquest brings he home ? 
What tributaries follow him to Rome, 
To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels ? 
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! 
Oh, you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome! 
Knew ye not Pompey? Many a time and oft 
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, 
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-topa, 
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
The life-long day, with patient expectation, 
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; 
And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
Have you not made an universal shout, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 225 

That Tiber trembled underneath her banks 

To hear the repHcation of your sounds, 

Made in her concave shores ? 

And do you now put on your best attire ? 

And do you now cull out a holiday? 

And do you now strew flowers in his way, 

That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? 

Begone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, 

Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 

That needs must light on this ingratitude ! 

44. WILLIAM TELL ON SWITZEELAND.— /. ^S-. Knowles. 

Once Switzerland was free ! With what a pride 
I used to walk these hills, — look up to heaven, 
And bless God that it was so ! It was free 
From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free! 
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks. 
And plow our valleys, without asking leave; 
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow 
In very presence of the regal sun ! 
How happy was I in it, then ! I loved 
Its very storms. Ay, often have I sat 
In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake, 
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge 
The wind came roaring, — I have sat and eyed 
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled 
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, 
And think I had no master save his own. 

You know the jutting cliff, round which a track 
Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow 
To such another one, with scanty room 
For two a-breast to pass? O'ertaken there 
By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along, 
And while gust followed gust more furiously, 
As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, 
And I have thought of other lands, whose storms 
Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 
Have wished me there; — the thought that mine was free 
Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, 
And cried in thralldom to that furious wind. 
Blow on! This is the land of liberty! 



226 orator's maxual. 

(«. WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.— J. S. Krwwle*. 

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! 
I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 
A spirit in your echoes answer me, 
And bid your tenant welcome to his home 
Again ! — sacred forms, how proud you look! 
How high you lift your heads into the sky! 
How huge you are! how mighty, and how free! 
Ye are the things that tower, that shine, — whose smile 
Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, 
Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 
Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 
I'm with you once again! — I call to you 
With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you. 
To show they still are free. I rush to you 
As though I could embrace you ! 

Scaling yonder peak, 
I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow 
O'er the abyss: — his broad -expanded wings 
Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 
As if he floated there without their aid, 
By the sole act of his unlorded will, 
That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively 
I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still 
His airy circle, as in the delight 
Of measuring the ample range beneath 
And round about; absorbed, he heeded not 
The death that threatened him. I could not shoot — 
'Twas Hberty! — I turned my bow aside, 
And let him soar away ! 

46. DANGEROUS LEGISLATION, 1849.— J". McDowell. 

Mr. Chairman: When I pass by the collective | parties in this 
case, and recall the particular ones; when I see that my own state is 
as deeply implicated in the trouble and the danger of it as any other, 
and shares, to the full, with all of her southern | colleagues, in the 
most painful | apprehensions of its issue; when I see this, I turn 
involuntarily, and with unaffected | deference of spirit, and ask, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 227 

w 1 R O ^ 1 

What, in this exigent moment to Virginia, will Massachiasetts do? 

RO wlROtos RO 

Will you, too, (I speak to her as present in her representatives) — 

IRQ w R O back w R C to 

will you, too, forgetting | all | the past, put forth a hand | to smite 

f C and to m s C 
her I ignominiously | upon the ch^ek? In your own early day of 
deepest extremity and distress — the day of the Boston | Port Bill — 
when your beautiful | capital was threatened with extinction, and 
England was collecting her gigantic | power to sweep your liberties | 

w L C back L C back 1 L O 

away, Virginia, caring for no | odds and counting no | cost, bravely, | 

r L O 1 L O 
generously, [ instantly, | stepped forth for your deliverance. Ad- 
dressing her through the justice | of your cause | and the agonies | 

1 R O IRQ 

of your condition, | you asked for her heart. She gave it; with 

w R C F to br w to R O w to R O 

scarce the reservation of a throb, she gave it freely and gave it ^11. 

w m tr R C to br f R O 

You called upon her for her blood; — she took her children from her 

w to 1 R O 
bosom, and offered thfem. 

ip) But in all | this | she felt and knew that she was more than your 
political I ally — more than your political friend. She felt and knew 
that she was your near, | natural born | relation — such in virtue 

1 f R o 
of your common | descent, but such I far more still | in virtue of the 

w tr R O to s R ^ O 

higher attributes of a congenial and kindred nature. Do not be 

startled at the idea of common | qualities between the American 

IB 
Cavalier and the American Roundhead. A heroic and unconquer- 

O Ft w to m B C 

able will, differently directed, is the pervasive and master cement in 

1 B O 
the character of both, {ff) Nourished by the same | spirit, sharing as 
twin- I sisters in the struggle of the heritage of the same | revolu- 
tion, what is there in any demand of national | faith, or of constitu- 

1 BO 
tional I duty, or of public | morals,] which should separate them now? 
1 B O down 
(/) Give us but a part of that devotion which glowed in the heart 
1 s R o 1 f R , O 

of the younger ] Pitt, and of our own elder | Adams, who, in the 

R C Ft on waist 
midst of their agonies, forgot not the countries they had lived for, 



228 orator's maj^-ual. 

but miogled with the spasms of their dying hour a last and implor- 

.1 R O h R O 

ing appeal to the parent of all | mercies, that he would remember, 

m R O 1 R O R O 

in eternal | blessings, the land of their birth; give us their devotion 

1 s L O w to 

— give us that of the young enthusiast of Paris, who, listening to 
msLC msLC 

Mh-abeau in one of his surpassing vindications of human rights, and 

drop L C pr 1 L C 

seeing him fall from his stand, dying, as a physician proclaimed, for 

back L C 
the want of blood, {ff) rushed to the spot, and as he bent over the ex- 

L C on R wrist and R Ft 
piring man, bared his arm for the lancet, and cried again and again, 

ditto ditto 

with impassioned voice: " H^re, take it — oh! take it from me ! let 
ditto 1 f B O 1 

me die, so that Mirabeau and the liberties of my country may not 
B O wide 1 B O 1 

parish! " Give us something only of such a love of country, and we 

f B O m s BO turn to h B C tr 

are safe, forever safe: the troubles which shadow over and oppress 

and tohsBC f hBC 

US now will pass aw^y like a summer cloud. The fatal element of 

w b k B C down 

all our discord will be removed from among us. {ff) Let gentlemen 
be adjured by the weal of this and coming ages, by our own and 
our children's good, by all that we love or that we look for in the 
progress and the glories of our land, to leave this entire subject, 
with every accountability it may impose, every remedy it may re- 
quire, every accumulation of difficulty or degree of pressure it may 
reach — to leave it all to the interest, to the wisdom, and to the con- 
science, of those upon whom the providence of God and the constitu- 
tion of their country have cast it.) 

ipp) It is said, sir, that at some dark hour of our revolutionary 
contest, when army after army had been lost; when, dispirited, 
beaten, wretched, the heart of the boldest and faithfulest died within 
them, and all, for an instant, seemed conquered, except the uncon- 
querable soul of our father-chi6f, — {p) it is said that at that moment, 

lift f R C ^ w tr R C to 

rising above all the auguries around him, and buoyed up by the 
br ^ and to m f s R C ^ to 

inspiration of his immortal work for all the trials it could bring, he 

h R C and hold 

aroused anew the sunken spirit of his associates by this confident 

w to m s R C 
and daring declaration: (/) " Strip me (said he) of the dejected and 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATION. 229 

w m tr R C and to m s R C 

suffering remnant of my army — take from me ail that I have l&ft — 

w tr R C ^ w to h f 

leave me but a banner, give me but the means to plant it upon the 
R C F w tr R C to br 

mountains of West Augusta, and I will yet draw around me the 

1 R O m 

men who shall lift up their bleeding country from the dust, and set 

R O 1 R O down 

her free! " {ff) Give to me, who am a son and representative here of 

sRO fRO wRCtr 

the same | West | Augusta, give to vah as a banner the propitious 

to f m R C 

measure I have endeavored to support, help me to plant it upon this 

hR c F 
mountain-top of our national power, and the land | of Washington, 
f B O wide 

undivided and unbroken, will be our land, and the land of our chil- 

B O 1 B O 

dren's children forever! (So help me to do this at this hour, and, 
generations hence, some future son of the South, standing where I 
stand, in the midst of our legitimate successors, will bless, and 
praise, and thank God that he, too, can say of them, as I of you, 
and of all around me — these, these are my brethren, and Oh! this, 
this, too, is my country!) 



47. PUBLIC OPINION AND THE SWORD.— TAowas B. Macaulay. 

I know only two ways in which societies can permanently 
be governed — by Public Opinion, and by the Sword. A 
government having at its command the armies, the fleets, 
and the revenues of Great Britain, might possibly hold Ire- 
land by the sword. So Oliver Cromwell held Ireland; so 
William the Third held it; so Mr. Pitt held it; so the Duke 
of Wellington might, perhaps, have held it. But, to govern 
Great Britain by the sword — so wild a thought has never, I 
will venture to say, occurred to any public man of any party; 
and, if any man were frantic enough to make the attempt, 
he would find, before three days had expired, that there is 
no better sword than that which is fashioned out of a 
ploughshare ! But, if not by the sword, how is the people 
to be governed? I understand how the peace is kept at 



230 orator's manual. 

New York. It is by the assent and support of the people. 
I understand, also, how the peace is kept at Milan. It is by 
the ba^^onets of the Austrian soldiers. But how the peace is 
to be kept when you have neither the popular assent nor the 
military force, — how the peace is to be kept in England by 
a government acting on the principles of the present Oppo- 
sition, — I do not understand. 

Sir, we read that, in old times, when the villeins were 
driven to revolt by oppression, — when the castles of the 
nobility were burned to the ground, — when the warehouses 
of London were pillaged, — when a hundred thousand insur- 
gents appeared in arms on Blackheath, — when a foul mur- 
der, perpetrated in their presence, had raised their passions 
to madness, — when they were looking round for some Cap- 
tain to succeed and avenge him whom they had lost, — just 
then, before Hob Miller, or Tom Carter, or Jack Straw, could 
place himself at their head, the King rode up to them, and 
exclaimed, "I will be your leader!" — And, at once, the 
infuriated multitude laid down their arms, submitted to his 
guidance, dispersed at his command. Herein let us imitate 
him. Let us say to the people, " We are your leaders, — we, 
your own House of Commons." This tone it is our interest 
and our duty to take. The circumstances admit of no delay. 
Even while I speak, the moments are passing away, — the 
irrevocable moments, pregnant with the destiny of a great 
people. The country is in danger; it may be saved: tve can 
save it. This is the way — this is the time. In our hands 
are the issues of great good and great evil — the issues of 
the life and death of the State! 

48. A REMINISCENCE OF IMXI^GTO^.— Theodore Parker. 

One raw morning in spring — it will be eighty years the 
19th day of this month — Hancock and Adams, the Moses and 
Aaron of that Great Deliverance, were both at Lexington; 
they also had "obstructed an officer" with brave words. British 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 231 

soldiers, a thousand strong, came to seize them and carry 
them over sea for trial, and so nip the bud of Freedom aus- 
piciously opening in that early spring. The town militia 
came together before daylight, " for training." A great, tall 
man, with a large head and a high, wide brow, their cap- 
tain, — one who had "seen service," — marshalled them into 
line, numbering but seventy, and bade " every man load his 
piece with powder and ball. I will order the first man shot 
that runs away," said he, when some faltered. " Don't fire 
unless fired upon, but if they want to have a war, let it 
begin here." 

Gentlemen, you know what followed; those farmers and 
mechanics " fired the shot heard round the world." A little 
monument covers the bones of such as before had pledged 
their fortune and their sacred honor to the Freedom of 
America, and that day gave it also their lives. I w^as born 
in that little town, and bred up amid the memories of that 
day. When a boy, my mother lifted me up, one Sunday, in 
her religious, patriotic arms, and held me while I read the 
first monumental line I ever saw — "Sacred to Liberty and 
the Rights of Mankind." 

Since then I have studied the memorial marbles of Greece 
and Rome, in many an ancient town; nay, on Egyptian obe- 
lisks, have read what was written before the Eternal roused 
up Moses to lead Israel out of Egypt, but no chiseled stone 
has ever stirred me to such emotion as these rustic names 
of men who fell " In the Sacred Cause of God and their 
Country." 

Gentlemen, the Spirit of Liberty, the Love of Justice, was 
early fanned into a flame in my boyish heart. That monu- 
ment covers the bones of my own kinsfolk; it was their 
blood which reddened the long, green grass at Lexington. 
It was my own name which stands chiseled on that stone; 
the tall Captain who marshalled his fellow farmers and 
mechanics into stern array, and spoke such brave and dan- 



232 orator's man^ual. 

gerous words as opened the war of American Independence, — 
the last to leave the field, — was my father's father. I 
learned to read out of his Bible, and with a mnsket he that 
day captured from the foe I learned also another religious 
lesson, that " Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God." I 
keep them both, " Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Man- 
kind," to use them both, " In the Sacred Cause of God and 
my Country." 

49. IRISH GRIEVANCES.— iJicAar^^ L. Shell. 
■ If we were to adopt the language which is prescribed to 
us, the people of England would not believe that we labored 
under any substantial grievances. "I do not believe you" 
(said a celebrated advocate of antiquity to a citizen who 
stated to him a case of enormous wrong), — " I do not 
believe you." "Not believe me?" "No." "What! not 
believe me ! I tell you that my antagonist met me in the 
public way, seized me by the throat, flung me to the earth, 
and — " "Hold," — exclaimed Demosthenes; "your eye is on 
fire; your lip begins to quiver; your cheek is flushed with 
passion; your hand is clinched. I believe you now; when 
you first addressed me you were too calm — too cold — too 
measured; but now j^ou speak, you look like one who has 
sustained a wrong! " 

And are we to speak and act like men who have sustained 
no wrong? We! Six millions of — what shall I say? — 
citizens? No! but of men who have been flagitiously 
spoliated of the rights and privileges of British subjects, 
who are cast into utter degradation, and covered with dis- 
grace and shame, upon whom scorn is vented and contumely 
discharged; we who are the victims of legislative plunder — 
who have been robbed, with worse than Punic perfidy, of 
privileges which our ancestors had purchased at Limerick 
with their blood, which were secured by the faith of treaties, 
and consecrated with all the solemnities of a great national 



selectio:n'S for declamation. 233 

compact, — shall we speak like men who have sustained no 
wrongs? 

We are upon our knees; but even in kneeling, an atti- 
tude of dignity should be maintained. Shall we ask for the 
rights of freemen in the language of slaves? May common 
sense — common feeling — common honor — may every gen- 
erous principle implanted in our nature — may that God (I 
do not take his name in vain), may that Power that endowed 
us with high aspirations, and filled the soul of man with 
honorable emotion; who made the love of freedom an 
instinctive wish, an unconquerable appetite; may the great 
Author of our being, the Creator of the human heart — may 
God forbid it! 

215. Elaborative Style. The long sentence and climax. 

Terminal Stress (§ 101) gliding into Median (§ 102) wherever the 
speaker begins to feel the Drift (§ 154) or balance of the Rhetoric. 
End each climax with the gradual descent in pitch indicated in 
§§ 83-85. The first two examples contain series of preliminary 
clauses ending with doivnward inflections; in the other examples 
these end with upivard inflections. 

^P"" In the following many of the words in subordinate clauses marked for 
downward or downward-circumflex inflections, may take upward inflections; 
but if rendered thus the delivery will not be so emphatic. Try an upward inflec- 
tion on ''Alps," etc. 

50. EXAMPLES FOR IRELAND.— T. F. Meagher. 

Other nations, with abilities far less eminent than those which 
you possess, having great difficulties to encounter, have obeyed with 
heroism the commandment from which you have swerved, maintain- 
ing that noble order of existence, through which even the poorest 
state becomes an instructive chapter in the great history of the 

world. 

w 1 R O ^ w m sRC w m 

Shame upon you! Switzerland — without a colony, without a 
sRC "w ms .RC 

gnn upon the s^as, without a helpmg hand from any court in Europe 

w R C Ft to waist w to 1 R O down 

— has held for centuries her footing on the Alps — spite of the ava- 
lanche, has bid her little territory sustain, in peace and plenty, the 
children to whom she has given birth — has trained those children 
10* 



234 orator's manual. 

up in the arts that contribute most to the securit3% the joy, the dig- 

n^ tr to Yr RCF w 

nity of life — has taught them to depend upon themselves, and for 

R C to °i . . s ^ c 

their fortune to be thankful to no officious stranger — and, though a 

lift to h R S hold 

blood-red cloud is breaking over one of her brightest lakes, what- 

h C shake h 

ever plague it may portend, be assured of this — the cap of foreign 
RCF w tomsRCF prone 

despotism will never again gleam in the market-place of Altorff ! 

wlLO^ lliO^ w 

Shame upon you! Norway — with her scanty population, scarce 

m s I^ C! , lift LCtohsLCF ^ drop to 

a million strong — has kept her flag upon the C^ttegat — has reared a 

s L C and down 

race of gallant sailors to guard her frozen soil — year after year has 

nursed upon that soil a harvest to which the Swede can lay no claim 

— has saved her ancient laws — and to the spirit of her frank and 

1 L O L O ^ L q snatch L O to L C Ft on waist 

hardy s6ns | commits | the freedom which she rescued from the 

M' to L O 

allied swords, when they hacked her crown at Fr^derickstadt! 

w 1 R O w 1 s R O turn 

Shame upon you! Holland — with the ocean as her foe — from 
to 1 s R c 

the swamp in which you would have sunk your | graves, has bid 

lift 
the palace, and the warehouse costlier than the palace, rear their 

s R C drop to 1 C prone 

ponderous | shapes j above the waves that battle at their base — has 

s R C F prone w RCF to 
outstripped the merchant of the Rialto — has threatened England in 

fmCF wRCto ^ msRC 

the Thames — has swept the channel with her broom — and, though 

w s RC trto br RC ^ w 

for a day she reeled before the bayonets of Dumoiiriez, she sprang 
to R C f h O Ft 

to her f feet again and striick the tricolor from her dykes! 
f B O 1 f B O wider B O 

And you — you, who are eight millions strong — you, who boast at 
lift to h B O and drop to 1 BO 

every meeting that this island is the finest which the sun looks down 

BO 
upon — you, who have no threatening | sea to stem, no avalanche to 

dread — you, who say that you could shield along your coast a 

thousand | sail, and be the princes of a mighty | commerce — you, 

who by the magic of an honest | hand, beneath each summer | sky, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 235 

w 1 ir R C ^ to br w to 1 

might cull a plent€ous | hardest from your soil, and with the sickle 
8 R C 
strike away the scythe of clfeath — you, who have no vulgar 1 history 

to rfead — you, who can trace, from field to field, the evidences of 

1 L 
civilization | older than the Conquest — the relics of a religion | far 

to h L O 1 L O 

more ancient than the Gospel — you, who have thus been blessed, 
thus been gifted, thus been prompted to what is wis6 and generous 

w 1 B C bk 
and gr6at — you will make no effort— you will whine, and bfeg, and 

w R C tr to C on waist w to 

skiilk, in sores and rags, upon this favored land — you will congregate 

m R C ^ drop to 1 R C 

in drowsy councils, and th^n, when the very earth is loosening 
IRC _ w tr R C and to m 

beneath your f^et, you will bid a prosperous voyage to your last 
s R C^ w to brRC ^ w to 1 R C 

grain of corn — you will be beggared by the million — you will parish 

h R C F 
by the thousand, and the finest island which the sun looks down 

shake h R C m f C 

upon, amid the jeers and hootings of the world, will blacken into a 

prone lower C 1 C 

plague-spot, a wilderness, a sepulchre. 



51. GREAT BRITAIN AND KWE,^lCK.~Newman Hall. 

Let all o-ood citizens in both England and America, all 
who desire the world's progress, strive to preserve peace and 
international good- will. 

I appeal to you by the unity of our race — for, with two 
governments we are one people ; by the unity of the grand 
old language we alike speak, with the thrilling names of 
father, mother, home, dear to us alike; by our common lit- 
erature, our Shakspeare, who is your Shakspeare, our Mil- 
ton, who is your Milton, our Longfellows and Tennysons, 
side by side in all our libraries; I appeal to you by the 
stirring memories of our common history,— by those ances- 
tors of both our nations, who proved their prowess at Hast- 
ings, whether as sturdy Saxons defending the standard of 
King Harold, or as daring Normans spurring their chivalry 



236 orator's manual. 

to the trumpet of Duke William, — and who, afterward 
united on a better field, wrung from a reluctant tyrant 
that great charter which is the foundation of our liberties 
on both sides of the Atlantic; I appeal to you by the stir- 
ring times when those common ancestors lighted their 
beacons on every hill, and rallied around a lion-hearted 
queen, and launched forth — some of them in mere fishing 
vessels — against the proud Armada that dared to threaten 
their subjugation; I appeal to you by the struggles of the 
commonwealth, by the memories of those who put to rout 
the abettors of tyranny — Cromwell, Hampden, Sir Harry 
Vane; I appeal to you by those Pilgrim Fathers here, and 
by those Puritans and Covenanters who remained behind, 
by whose heroic sufferings both nations enjoy such freedom 
to worship God; I appeal to you by the graves in which 
our common ancestors repose, — not only, it may be, be- 
neath the stately towers of Westminster, but in many an 
ancient village churchyard, where daisies grow on the turf- 
covered graves, and venerable yew-trees cast over them 
their solemn shade; I appeal to you by that Bible — pre- 
cious to us both; by that gospel which our missionaries 
alike proclaim to the heathen world, and by that Savior 
whom we both adore, — never let there be strife between 
nations whose conflict would be the rushing together of two 
Niagaras, but whose union wdll be like the irresistible 
course of two great rivers flowing on majestically to fer- 
tilize and bless the world. 

Never let our beautiful standards — yours of the stars 
and stripes, suggesting the lamps of night and the rays of 
day, and ours of the clustered crosses, telling of union in 
diversity, and reminding of the One Great Libe-rator and 
Peace-Maker, who, by the cross, gave life to the world — 
never let these glorious standards be arrayed in hostile 
ranks; but ever may they float side by side, leading on the 
van of the world's progress. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 237 

Oh, I can imagine that if we, the hereditary champions of 
freedom, were engaged in strife, all the despots of the earth 
would clap their hands, and all the demons in hell would 
exult, while angels would weep to see these two nations 
wasting the treasure and shedding the blood that should be 
reserved for the strife against the common foes of freedom. 

Never give angels such cause of lamentation, never give 
despots and demons such cause for rejoicing; but ever Great 
Britain and America — the mother and the daughter, or, if 
you prefer it, the elder daughter and the younger — go 
forth hand in hand, angel-guardians together of civiliza- 
tion, freedom and religion, their only rivalry the rivalry of 
love. 

52. THE CAUSE OP TE:MPERANCE.-JoA;i B. Gough. 

Our cause is a progressive one. I have read the first 
constitution of the first temperance society formed in the 
State of New York in 1809, and one of the by-laws stated: 
"Any member of this association who shall be convicted of 
intoxication shall be fined a quarter of a dollar, except such 
act of intoxication shall take place on the Fourth of July, 
or any other regularly appointed military muster." We 
laugh at that now; but it was a serious matter in those 
daj^s: it was in advance of the public sentiment of the age. 
The very men who adopted that principle were persecuted: 
they were hooted and pelted through the streets, the doors 
of their houses were blackened, their cattle mutilated. 

The fire of persecution scorched some men so that they 
left the work. Others worked on, and God blessed them. 
Some are living to-day; and I should like to stand where 
they stand now, and see the mighty enterprise as it rises 
before them. They worked hard. They lifted the first 
turf — prepared the bed in which to lay the corner-stone. 
They laid it amid persecution and storm. They worked 



238 orator's MAi^UAL. 

under the surface; and men almost forgot that there were 
busy hands laying the solid foundation far down beneath. 

By and by they got the foundation above the surface, 
and then began another storm of persecution. Now we 
see the superstructure — pillar after pillar, tower after 
tower, column after column, with the capitals emblazoned 
with " Love, truth, sympathy, and good-will to men." Old 
men gaze upon it as it grows up before them. They will 
not live to see it completed; but they see in faith the crown- 
ing copestone set upon it. Meek-eyed women weep as it 
grows in beauty; children strew the pathway of the work- 
men with flowers. 

We do not see its beauty yet — we do not see the mag- 
nificence of its superstructure yet — because it is in course 
of erection. Scaffolding, ropes, ladders, workmen ascend- 
ing and descending, mar the beauty of the building; but 
by and by, when the hosts who have labored shall come up 
over a thousand battlefields waving with bright grain never 
again to be crushed in the distillery — through vineyards, 
under trellised vines, with grapes hanging in all their pur- 
ple glory, never again to be pressed into that which can de- 
base and degrade mankind — when they shall come through 
orchards, under trees hanging thick with golden pulpy 
fruit, never to be turned into that which can injure and 
debase — when they shall come up to the last distillery and 
destroy it; to the last stream of liquid death, and dry it up; 
to the last weeping wife, and wipe her tears gently away; 
to the last child, and lift him up to stand where God meant 
that child and man should stand; to the last drunkard, and 
nerve him to burst the burning fetters and make a glorious 
accompaniment to the song of freedom by the clanking of 
his broken chains — then, ah! then will the copestone be 
set upon it, the scaff'olding will fall with a crash, and the 
building will stand in its wondrous beauty before an aston- 
ished world. Loud shouts of rejoicing shall then be heard, 



SELECTION'S FOR DECLAMATION. 239 

and there will be joy in heaven, when the triumphs of a 
great enterprise usher in the day of the triumphs of the 
cross of Christ. 

53. DUTY OF AMERICA TO GREECE.— J3mry Clay. 

Are we so low, so base, so despicable, that we may not 
express our horror, articulate our detestation, of the most 
brutal and atrocious war that ever stained earth, or shocked 
high heaven, with the ferocious deeds of a brutal soldiery, 
set on by the clergy and followers of a fanatical and inim- 
ical religion, rioting in excess of blood and butchery, at the 
mere details of which the heart sickens? If the great mass 
of Christendom can look coolly and calmly on, while all this 
is perpetrated on a Christian people, in their own vicinity, 
in their very presence, let us, at least, show that, in this 
distant extremity, there is still some sensibility and sym- 
pathy for Christian wrongs and sufferings; that there are 
still feelings which can kindle into indignation at the op- 
pression of a people endeared to us by every ancient recol- 
lection and every modern tie. 

But, sir, it is not first and chiefly for Grreece that I wish 
to see this measure adopted. It will give her but little aid 
— that aid purely of a moral kind. It is, indeed, soothing 
and solacing, in distress, to hear the accents of a friendly 
voice. We know this as a people. But, sir, it is princi- 
pally and mainly for America herself, for the credit and 
character of our common country, that I hope to see this 
resolution pass; it is for our own unsullied name that I 
feel. 

What appearance, sir, on the page of history, would a 
record like this make: "In the month of January, in the 
year of our Lord and Savior 1824, while all European 
Christendom beheld, with cold, unfeeling apathy, the unex- 
ampled wrongs and inexpressible misery of Christian 
Greece, a proposition was made in the Congress of the 



240 orator's manual. 

United States — almost the sole, the last, the greatest re- 
pository of human hope and of human freedom, the repre- 
sentatives of a nation capable of bringing into the field a 
million of bayonets — while the freemen of that nation 
were spontaneously expressing its deep-toned feeling, its 
fervent prayer, for Grecian success; while the whole conti- 
nent was rising, by one simultaneous motion, solemnly and 
anxiously supplicating and invoking the aid of heaven to 
spare Greece, and to invigorate her arms: while temples 
and senate-houses were all resounding with one burst of 
generous sympathy; in the year of our Lord and Savior, — 
that Savior alike of Christian Greece and of us, — a propo- 
sition was offered in the American Congress to send a mes- 
senger to Greece, to inquire into her state and condition, 
with an expression of our good wishes and our sympathies, 
— and it was rejected! " 

Go home, if you dare, — go home, if you can, — to your 
constituents, and tell them that you voted it down ! Meet, 
if you dare, the appalling countenances of those who sent 
you here, and tell them that you shrank from the declara- 
tion of your own sentiments; that, you cannot tell how, 
but that some unknown dread, some indescribable appre- 
hension, some indefinable danger, affrighted you; that the 
spectres of cimeters, and crowns and crescents, gleamed be- 
fore you, and alarmed you; and that you suppressed all the 
noble feelings prompted by religion, by liberality, by na- 
tional independence, and by humanity! I cannot bring 
myself to believe that such will be the feeling of a majority 
of this House. 

ANIMATED AND EXPOSITORY SELECTIONS. 

216. In all these the predominating. Time is slower, Pitch slightly 
higher, and Tone louder than in ordinary conversation ; Force smooth, 
loud, expulsive and effusive (§§ 106-120); Quality pure and orotund 
(§§ 131-137). 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 241 

217. Explanatory and Categorical. The following begin 
with a short, sharp Terminal (§ 101), becoming, at times, Initial 
stress (§ 100), and end with a longer Terminal, sometimes becoming 
Median (§ 102). A few of the selections may take Pure Quality at 
the opening; all should close with the Orotund (§§ 131-137). 

54. s:mall beginnings of great historical movements. 

G. S. Hillard. 
The first | forty | years | of the seventeenth | century were fruit- 
ful I in striking | occurrences | and remarkable | m^n. Charles II | 
was born in 1630. When he had reached an age to understand the 
rudiments | of historical | knowledge, we may imagine his royal 
father to have commissioned some grave and experienced counselor 
of his court to instruct the future monarch of England in the great | 
Events which had taken place in Europe since the opening of the 
century. 

w 1 B O 
Upon what themes would the tutor of the young prince have been 
1 B O f R 

likely to discourse ? He would have dwelt upon the struggle between 
o s R o m 8 

Spain and the Netherlands, and upon the Thirty Years' War in 
R O bring s RO to R C F on 

Grfermany; and he would have recalled the sorrow that fell upon the 

br hold 1 

heart of England when the news came of the disastrous battle of 
R O 
Prague. 

LC to 
He would have painted the horror and dismay | which ran through 
br w to s m L C 

France at the assassination of Henry IV. He would have attempted 

1 
to convey to his young pupil some notion of the military genius of 
L O ^ 1 s L O 

Maurice of Nassau, of the vast political capacity of Cardinal Riche- 
w m L C to br and to m f 

lieu, and of the splendor and mystery that wrapped the romantic life 

L c 
of Wallenstein. 

w 1 R O _ to 
But so seemingly insignificant an occurrence as the sailing of a 
s ROlfRO IRO. w 

few Puritans from Delph Haven, in the summer of 1620, would doubt- 

m R C to s R C 

less have been entirely overlooked; or, if mentioned at all, the young 

prince might have been told, that lq that year a congregation of 
11 



242 ORATOR^S MANUAL. 

IfRO s RO wtolfRO 

fanatical Brownists sailed for North Virginia; that, since that time, 

hold w to s RO 

6thers of the same factious and troublesome sect had followed in 

w to 1 RO 1 

their path, and that they had sent home many cargoes of fish and 

^ RO 
poultry. 

But with our eyes, we can see that this humble event was the 
1 BO 1 BO 1 BO 

seed of far more memorable consequences than all the sieges, battles, 

1 B O w m L C to 

and treaties of that momentous period. The effects | of those fields 

br and to s L C 

of slaughter | hardly | lasted | longer | than the smoke and di^ist of 

the contending armies; but the seminal principles which were carried 

1 R O w m RC to br and 

to America in the Mayflower, which grew in the wholesome air of 

to 8 R C 1 RO Ft 1 

obscurity and neglect, are at this moment vital forces in the move- 

R O 
ments of the world, the extent and influence of which no political 

foresight can measure. Ideas which, for the first time in the history 

1 LO 
of mankind, took | shape | upon our soil, are the springs | of that 

s L C F h CF 

contest I now going on in Europe | between the Past and the Future, 

h OF f m C 

the &nd of which no man can s^e. 

h L O 1 LO 

May God inspire us and our rulers with the wisdom to preserve 

1 LO 

and transmit, unimpaired, those advantages | secured to us by our 

starting | without | the weary | burdens | and perplexing | entangle- 
ments I of the P^st. May we throw into the scale of struggling 

w 1 R C w R C 

freedom in the Old World, not the sword of physical force, but the 
to br and to 1 RO 1 

weight of a noble example — the moral argument of a great people, 

BOIBC mBO w 

invigorated, but not intoxicated, by their liberty — a power which, 

mfBC bfBO 

though unsubstantial, will yet, like the uplifted hands of Moses upon 

1 BO 1 BO 

Horeb, avail more | than hosts | of armed | mfen. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 243 

55. IN BEHALF OF STARVING IRELAND.— 5. S. Prentiss. 

Fellow-citizens: It is no ordinary cause which has 
brought together this vast assemblage on the present occa- 
sion. We have met, not to prepare ourselves for political 
contests, nor to celebrate the achievements of those gallant 
men who have planted our victorious standards in the heart 
of an enemy's country. We have assembled, not to respond 
^0 shouts of triumph from the west, but to answer the cry of 
want and suffering which comes from the east. The Old 
World stretches out her arms to the New. The starving 
parent supplicates the young and vigorous child for bread. 
There lies upon the other side of the wide Atlantic a beauti- 
ful island, famous in story and in song. Its area is not so 
great as that of the State of Louisiana, while its population 
is almost half that of the Union. It has given to the world 
more than its share of genius and of greatness. It has been 
prolific in statesmen, warriors and poets. Its brave and 
generous sons have fought successfully all battles but their 
own. In wit and humor it has no equal;- while its harp, 
like its history, moves to tears by its sweet but melancholy 
pathos. Into this fair region God has seen fit to send the 
most terrible of all those fearful ministers who fulfill his in- 
scrutable decrees. The earth has failed to give her increase; 
the common mother has forgotten her offspring, and her 
breast no longer affords them their accustomed nourishment 
Famine, gaunt and ghastly famine, has seized a nation with 
its strangling grasp; and unhappy Ireland, in the sad woes 
of the present, forgets for a moment the gloomy history of 
the past. 

We have assembled, fellow-citizens, to express our sincere 
sympathy for the sufferings of our brethren, and to unite in 
efforts for their alleviation. This is one of those cases in 
which we may, without impiety, assume, as it were, the func- 
tion of Providence. Who knows but what one of the very 



244 orator's manual. 

objects of this great calamity is to test the benevolence and 
worthiness of us upon whom unlimited abundance has been 
showered. In the name, then, of common humanity, I invoke 
your aid in behalf of starving Ireland. Give generously and 
freely. Eecollect that in so doing you are exercising one of 
the most God-like qualities of your nature, and at the same 
time enjoying one of the greatest luxuries of life. We ought 
to thank our Maker that he has permitted us to exercise 
equally with himself that noblest of even the Divine attri- 
butes, benevolence. Go home and look at your family, smiling 
in rosy health, and then think of the pale, famine-pinched 
cheeks of the poor children of Ireland ; and I know you will 
give, according to your store, even as a bountiful Providence 
has given to you — not grudgingly, but with an open hand, 
for the quality of benevolence, like that of mercy, 

" Is not strained; 
It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed, — 
Itblesseth him that gives, and him that takes." 

56. DANGER OF THE SPIRIT OF CONQUEST.- T'^omas Corwin. 

Since I have heard so much about the dismemberment 
of Mexico, I have looked back to see how, in the course of 
events which some call " Providence," it has fared with other 
nations who engaged in this work of dismemberment. I 
see that, in the latter half of the eighteenth century, three 
powerful nations, Russia, Austria and Prussia, united in the 
dismemberment of Poland. They said, too, as you say, " It 
is our destiny." They " wanted room." Doubtless each of 
these thought, with his share of Poland, his power was 
too strong ever to fear invasion, or even insult. One had 
his California, another his New Mexico, and a third his 
Vera Cruz. Did they remain untouched and incapable of 
harm? Alas! no; far, very far, from it. Retributive jus- 
tice must fulfill its destiny too. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 245 

A very few years pass away, and we hear of a new man, 
a Corsican lieutenant, the self-named " armed soldier of 
democracy," Napoleon. He ravages Austria, covers her 
land with blood, drives the northern Caesar from his capital, 
and sleeps in his palace. Austria may now remember how 
her power trampled upon Poland. Did she not pay dear, 
very dear, for her California? 

But has Prussia no atonement to make? You see this 
same Napoleon, the blind instrument of Providence, at work 
there. The thunders of his cannon at Jena proclaim the 
work of retribution for Poland's wrongs; and the success- 
ors of the Great Frederick, the drill-sergeant of Europe, 
are seen flying across the sandy plains that surround their 
capital, right glad if they may escape captivity and death. 

But how fares it with the autocrat of Russia? Is he 
secure in his share of the spoils of Poland! No; suddenly 
we see six hundred thousand men marching to Moscow. 
Does his Vera Cruz protect him now? Far from it. Blood, 
slaughter, desolation, spread abroad over the land, and, 
finally, the conflagration of the old commercial metropolis 
of Russia closes the retribution she must pay for her share 
in the dismemberment of her weak and impotent neighbor. 

A mind more prone to look for the judgments of Heaven 
in the doings of men than mine cannot fail in this to see the 
providence of God. When Moscow burned, it seemed as if 
the earth was lighted up, that nations might behold the 
scene. As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved, and 
rolled upward, and yet higher, till its flames licked the 
stars and fired the whole heavens, it did seem as though the 
God of the nations was writing in characters of fiame, on 
the front of his throne, that doom that shall fall upon the 
strong nation which tramples in scorn upon the weak. 

And what fortune awaited him, the appointed executor of 
this work, when it was all done? He, too, conceived the 
idea that his " destiny " pointed onward to universal do- 



246 ORATOR'S MANUAL. 

minion. France was too small; Europe, he thought, should 
bow down before him. But as soon as this idea took posses- 
sion of his soul he, too, became powerless. Just there, 
while he witnessed the humiliation, and, doubtless, medi- 
tated the subjugation of Russia, He who holds the winds in 
his fist gathered the snows of the north, and blew them 
upon his six hundred thousand men. They died, they froze, 
they perished. And now the mighty Napoleon. ... He 
has found "room'' at last. And France, — she, too, has 
found " room." Her eagles now no longer scream along 
the banks of the Danube, the Po, and the Borysthenes. 
They have returned home to their old eyrie, between the 
Alps, the Rhine, and the Pyrenees. 

So shall it be with yours. You may carry them to the 
loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras, they may wave in insolent 
triumph in the halls of the Montezumas, the armed men of 
Mexico may quail before them, — but the weakest hand in 
Mexico, uplifted in prayer to the God of justice, may call 
down against you a Power, in the presence of which the 
iron hearts of your warriors shall be turned into ashes! 

57. HAMLET'S INSTRUCTIONS.— 5^/^aA:.«j9eore. 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, 
trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of 
your players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. 
And do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but 
use all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I 
may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and 
beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh, it 
oifends me to the soul to hear a robustious, periwig-pated 
fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the 
ears of the groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable 
of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I would 
have such a fellow whipped for overdoing Termagant; it 
out-herods Herod: pray you avoid it. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 247 

Be not too tame either, but let your own discretion 
be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the 
action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not 
the modesty of Nature; for anything so overdone is from 
the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first, and 
now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to Na- 
ture, to show Virtue her own feature, Scorn her own image, 
and the very age and body of the time his form and press- 
ure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it 
make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious 
grieve ; the censure of the which one must, in your allow- 
ance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh, there be 
players that I have seen play — and heard others praise, and 
that highly — not to speak it profanely, that, neither having 
the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, 
or man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought 
some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made 
them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. 

218. Demonstrative and Diffusive. The following- selec- 
tions begin with median stress (§ 102) and orotund quaJitij (§ 137); 
they end with terminal stress (§ 101) and the aspirated orotund 
(§ 138). 

58. IGNORANCE IN OUR COUNTRY A CIlUl^.— Horace Mann. 

In all the dungeons of the Old World, where the strong champions 
of freedom are now pining in captivity beneath the remorseless 
power of the tyrant, the morning sun does not send a glimmering 
ray into their cells, nor does night draw a thicker veil of darkness 
between them and the world, but the lone prisoner lifts his iron -laden 

1 L O 
arms to heaven in prayer that w6, the depositaries of freedom and of 

1 LO 
human hopes, may be faithful to our sacred triist; — while, on the 

w m RC 

other hand, the pensioned advocates of despotism stand, with listen- 

tr and slowly to m 

ing ear, to catch the first sound of lawless violence that is wafted 
s RC wm RC tobrCF 

from our shores, to note the first breach of faith or act of perfidy 



248 orator's manual. 

w to 1 bk R C ^ 

amongst us, and to convert them into arguments against | liberty 

and the rights \ of mSn. 

There is not a shout sent up by an insane mob, on this side of the 
1 L o 8 

Atlantic, but it is echoed by a thousand | presses and by ten | thou- 

L O h s LC m s C 

sand I tongues along every mountain | and valley, on the other, 
w . m L C tr to opposite f 

There is not a conflagration | kindled | here | by the ruthless hand of 
and w torn sLCms LC h 

violence, but its flame | glares over all | Europe, from horizon | to 
s LCF 
zenith. On each occurrence of a flagitious scene, whether it be an 

act of turbulence | and devastation, or a deed of perfidy | or breach 

1 R O 

of f^ith, monarchs | point them out as fruits of the growth | and 
turn to m s R C w tr to C Ft on waist 

omens of the fate | of republics, and claim for themselves and their 

1 R O RO 

heirs a further | extension | of the lease of despotism. 

The experience of the ages that are past, the hopes of the ages 

1 BO 

that are yet to come, unite their voices in an appeal to us; they im- 
f BO wide 

plore us to think more of the character of our people than of its 
BO w m L C 

numbers; to look upon our vast | natural | resources, not as tempt- 
to s C ^ 
ers to_ ostentation and pride, but as a means to be converted, by the 

m LO m LO 

refining | alchemy of education, into mental | and spiritual | treas- 
ures; they supplicate us to seek for whatever complacency or self- 

w R C to m 

satisfaction [ we are disposed to indulge, not in the extent | of our 
s RC tomsRC prone 

territory, or in the products | of our soil, but in the expansion | and 

perpetuation | of the means of human | happiness; they beseech us 

BO 

to exchange the luxuries of sense | for the joys of charity, and thus 

wide BO h B O 

give to the world the example of a nation whose wisdom | increases 
m BO 1 f B O 1 wide BO 

with its prosperity, and whose virtues | are equal to its power. For 

these ends they enjoin upon us a more earnest, a more universal, a 

more religious devotion of our exertions and resources to the culture | 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 249 

1 R O w to br C F w 

of the youthful | mind and heart of the nation. Their gathered | 

to m R O IRQ 

voices I assert | the eternal | truth that, in a Republic, ignorance ] 

1 RO 

is a crime; and that private | immorality is not less an opprobrium 

1 B O 1 BO 

to the state than it is guilt | in the perpetrator. 



59. CHARACTER OF WASBI'SGTO-^.— Charles Phillips. 

Sir, it matters very little what immediate spot may have 
been the birthplace of such a man as Washington. No peo- 
ple can claim, no country can appropriate him. The boon 
of Providence to the human race, his fame is eternity, and 
his residence creation. Though it was the defeat of our 
arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the con- 
vulsion in which he had his origin. If the heavens thun- 
dered, and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm had past, 
how pure was the climate that it cleared ! how bright in the 
brow of the firmament was the planet which it revealed to 
us! 

In the production of Washington it does really appear as 
if Nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that 
all the virtues of the ancient world were but so many stud- 
ies preparatory to the patriot of the new. Individual in- 
stances, no doubt, there were, splendid exemplifications of 
some single qualification: Csesar was merciful, Scipio was 
continent, Hannibal was jDatient; but it was reserved for 
Washington to blend them all in one, and, like the lovely 
masterpiece of the GJ-recian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of 
associated beauty, the pride of every model and the perfec- 
tion of every master. 

As a general, he marshaled the peasant into a veteran, 
and supplied, by discipline, the absence of experience; as 
a statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into 
the most comprehensive system of general advantage; and 
such was the wisdom of his views and the philosophy of his 



250 orator's MAI!^UAL. 

counsels, that to the soldier and the statesman he almost 
added the character of the sage! A conqueror, he was un- 
tainted with the crime of blood; a revolutionist, he was 
free from any stain of treason; for aggression commenced 
the contest, and his country called him to the command. 
Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory re- 
turned it. 

If he had paused here, history might have doubted what 
station to assign him; whether at the head of her citizens, 
or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But the last 
glorious act crowns his career and banishes all hesitation. 
Who, like Washington, after having emancipated a hemi- 
sphere, resigned its crown and preferred the retirement of 
domestic life to the adoration of a land he might be almost 
said to have created? 

Happy, proud America! The lightnings of heaven yielded 
to your philosophy! The temptations of earth could not 
seduce your patriotism ! 

60. DESTINY OF AMERICA.— CAar^es PhUlips. 

Search creation round, where can you find a country 
that presents so sublime a view, so interesting an anticipa- 
tion? Who shall say for what purpose mysterious Provi- 
dence may not have designed her! Who shall say that when 
in its follies or its crimes, the old world may have buried 
all the pride of its power, and all the pomp of its civiliza- 
tion, human nature may not find its destined renovation in 
the new! When its temples and its trophies shall have 
mouldered into dust, — when the glories of its name shall be 
but the legend of tradition, and the light of its achieve- 
ments live only in song, philosophy will revive again in the 
sky of her Franklin, and glory rekindle at the urn of her 
Washington. 

Is this the vision of romantic fancy? Is it even im- 
probable? I appeal to history! Tell me, thou reverend 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 251 

chronicler of the grave, can all the illusions of ambition 
realized, can all the wealth of a universal commerce, can all 
the achievements of successful heroism, or all the estab- 
lishments of this world's wisdom, secure to empire the per- 
manency of its possessions? Alas, Troy thought so once; 
yet the land of Priam lives only in song ! Thebes thought 
so once ; yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her very 
tombs are but as the dust they were vainly intended to 
commemorate! So thought Palmja-a — where is she! So 
thought the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan; yet 
Leonidas is trampled by the timid slave, and Athens in- 
sulted by the servile, mindless, and enervate Ottoman! In 
his hurried march, Time has but looked at their imagined 
immortality, and all its vanities, from the palace to thfe 
tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of 
bis footsteps! The days of their glory are as if they had 
never been; and the island that was then a speck, rude and 
neglected, in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity of 
their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of their 
philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the inspira- 
tion of their bards! Who shall say, then, contemplating 
the past, that England, proud and potent as she appears, 
may not one day be what Athens is, and the young America 
yet soar to be what Athens was ! Who shall say, when the 
European column shall have mouldered, and the night of 
barbarism obscured its very ruins, that that mighty conti- 
nent may not emerge from the horizon, to rule, for its time, 
sovereign of the ascendant! 

61. EULOGY ON 'LKWA.YWYT'E,.— Edward Everett. 

There have been those who have denied to Lafayette the 
name of a great man. What is greatness? Does goodness 
belong to greatness, and make an essential part of it? If it 
does, who, I would ask, of all the prominent names in his- 
tory, has run through such a career with so little reproach, 



252 orator's manual. 

justl}^ or unjustly bestowed? Are military courage and 
conduct the measure of greatness? Lafayette was intrusted 
by Washington with all kinds of service, — the laborious 
and complicated, which required skill and patience; the 
perilous, that demanded nerve: and we see him performing 
all with entire success and brilliant reputation. Is the 
readiness to meet vast responsibilities a proof of greatness? 
The memoirs of Mr. Jefferson show us that there was a 
moment, in 1789, when Lafayette took upon himself, as the 
head of the military force, the entire responsibility of laying 
down the basis of the Revolution. Is the cool and brave 
administration of gigantic power a mark of greatness? In 
all the whirlwind of the Revolution, and when, as com- 
mander-in-chief of the National Guard, an organized force 
of three millions of men, who, for any popular purpose, 
needed but a word, a look, to put them in motion, we be- 
hold him ever calm, collected, disinterested; as free from 
affectation as selfishness; clothed not less with humility 
than with power. Is the voluntary return, in advancing 
years, to the direction of affairs, at a moment like that, 
when, in 1815, the ponderous machinery of the French 
Empire was flying asunder, — stunning, rending, crushing 
thousands on every side, — a mark of greatness? Lastly, is 
it any proof of greatness to be able, at the age of seventy- 
three, to take the lead in a successful and bloodless revolu- 
tion; to change the dynasty; to organize, exercise and abdi- 
cate a military command of three and a half millions of 
men; to take up, to perform, and lay down the most mo- 
mentous, delicate, and perilous duties, without passion, 
without hurry, without selfishness? Is it great to disregard 
the bribes of title, office, money; to live, to labor and suffer 
for great public ends alone ; to adhere to principle under 
all circumstances; to stand before Europe and America 
conspicuous, for sixty years, in the most responsible stations, 
the acknowledged admiration of all good men? 



SELECTION'S FOR DECLAMATION^-. 253 

There is not, throughout the world, a friend of libert}'' 
who has not dropped his head when he has heard that La- 
fayette is no more. Poland, Italy, Greece, Spain, Ireland 
the South American republics — every country where man 
is struggling to recover his birthright, — have lost a bene- 
factor, a patron, in Lafayette. And what was it, fellow- 
citizens, which gave to our Lafayette his spotless fame? 
The love of liberty. What has consecrated his memory in 
the hearts of good men? The love of liberty. What nerved 
his youthful arm with strength, and inspired him, in the 
morning of his days, with sagacity and counsel? The living 
love of liberty. To what did he sacrifice power, and rank, 
and country, and freedom itself? To the horror of licen- 
tiousness, — to the sanctity of plighted faith, — to the love 
of liberty protected by law. Thus the great principle of 
your Revolutionary fathers, and of your Pilgrim sires, was 
the rule of his life — the love of liberty ^protected hj law. 

62. THE TRUE KINGS OF THE EARTH.— J^oM Ruskin. 

Mighty of heart, mighty of mind — "magnanimous" — 
to be this is indeed to be great in life; to become this 
unceasingly is indeed to " advance in life" — in life itself— 
not in the trappings of it. Do you remember that old 
Scythian custom? How, when the head of a house died, 
he was dressed in his finest dress, and set in his chariot, and 
carried about to his friends' houses; and each of them 
placed him at his table's head, and all feasted in his presence. 

Suppose it were offered to you in plain words, as it is 
offered to you in dire facts, that you should gain this 
Scythian honor, gradually, while you yet thought yourself 
alive. Suppose the offer were this: You shall die slowly; 
your blood shall daily grow cold, your flesh petrify, your 
heart beat at last only as a rusty group of iron valves. 
Your life shall fade from you, and sink through the earth 
into the ice of Caina; but, day by day, your body shaU 



254 orator's manual. 

be dressed more gaiiy, and set in hi.c^her chariots, and 
have more orders on its breast — crowns on its head, if 
you will. Men shall bow before it, stare and shout round 
it; crowd after it up and down the streets; build palaces 
for it; feast with it at their tables' heads all the night long; 
your soul shall stay enough within it to know what they do, 
and to feel the weight of the golden dress on its shoulders, 
and the furrow of the crown edge on the skull — no more. 
Would you take the offer verbally made by the death-angel ? 
Would the meanest among us take it, think you? 

Yet practically and verily we grasp at it, every one of 
us, in a measure; many of us grasp at it in its fullness of 
horror. Every man accepts it, who desires to advance in 
life without knowing what life is; who means only that he 
is to get more horses, and more servants, and more fortune, 
and more public honor, and — not more personal soul. He 
only is advancing in life whose heart is getting softer, whose 
blood warmer, whose brain quicker, whose spirit is entering 
into living peace. And the men who have this life in them 
are the true lords or kings of the earth — they, and they 
only. 

63. THE AMERICAN FLAG.— J". R. Drake. 

When Freedom from her mountain height 

Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure robe of night, 

And set the stars of g:lory there : 
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies, 
And striped its pure celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light; 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle-bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 

Majestic monarch of the cloud ! 
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATlO^Tc 255 

To hear the tempest-trumpings loud 

And see the lightning lances driven, 
When strive the warriors of the storm, 

And rolls the thunder — drum of heaven, — 
Child of the Sun ! to thee 'tis given 

To guard the banner of the free; 
To hover in the sulphur-smoke, 
To ward away the battle-stroke, 
And bid its blendings shine afar, 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 

The harbingers of victory ! 

Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly, 
The sign of hope and triumph high. 
When speaks the signal trumpet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on. 
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet. 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn; 
And, as his springing steps advance. 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance? 
And, when the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle -shroud^ 
And gory sabres rise and fall 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, 
Then shall thy meteor glances glow, 

And cowering foes shall fall beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave. 
When Death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. 
And frighted waves rush wildly back. 
Before the broadside's reeling rack, 
Each dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
And smile to see thy splendors fly. 
In triumph, o'er his closing eye. 



256 orator's manual. 

Flag of the free heart's hope and home! 

By angel hands to Valor given ! 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were bom in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet! 

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? 

64. LOOK ALOFT.— J". Lawrence. 

In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale 
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail — 
If thine eyes should grow dim, and thy caution depart — 
"Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart. 

If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow. 
With a smile for each joy and a tear for each woe, 
Should betray thee when sorrows, like clouds, are arrayed. 
" Look aloft " to the friendship which never shall fade. 

Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye 
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, 
Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret, 
" Look aloft " to the sun that is never to set. 

Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart — 
Thy friends and companions — in sorrow depart, 
** Look aloft " from the darkness and dust of the tomb, 
To that soil where " affection is ever in bloom." 

And oh, when Death comes in his terrors, to cast 
His fears on the future, his pall on the past. 
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart. 
And a smile in thine eye, " Look aloft," and depart. 

65. FALL OF WARSAW, riU.— TJiomas Campbell. 

sacred Truth ! thy triumph ceased awhile, 
And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, 
When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars 
Her whiskered pandours and her fierce hussars 
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, 
Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn: 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 257 

Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, 
Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man ! 

Warsaw's last champion from her heights surveyed 
Wide o'er the fields a waste of ruin laid — 
Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save! 
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? 
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, 
Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! 
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 
And swear for her to live ! — with her to die ! 

He said; and on the rampart heights arrayed 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; 
Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm; 
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, — 
"Revenge, or death! " — the watchword and reply; 
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm. 
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! 

In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! 
From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew; — 
Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, 
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime; 
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! 
Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spearj 
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career. 
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell. 
And Freedom shrieked, as Kosciusko fell ! 

righteous Heaven ! ere Freedom found a grave. 
Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save ? 
Where was thine arm, Vengeance! where thy rod, 
That smote the foes of Sion and of God ? 

Departed spirits of the mighty dead! 
Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled! 
Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man, 
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van! 
Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, 
And make her arm puissant as your own! 
Oh, once again to Freedom's cause return 
The patriot Tell,— the Bruce of BannockbumI 



258 orator's ilANUAL. 

Yes, thy proud lords, unpitied land ! shall see 
That man hath yet a soul, — and dare be free! 
A little while, along thy saddening plains, 
The starless night of Desolation reigns; 
Truth shall restore the light by Nature given, 
And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of heaven! 
Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled, 
Her name, her nature, withered from the world! 

219. Illustrative: References to man and nature. As a 

rule, on objects referred to, use a doivmvard bend or inflection (§ 50), 
and sometimes the circumflex (§§ 69, 70). These objects should be 
articulated distinctly, which will tend to make the predominating 
Terminal stress (§ 101) short and sharp, or change it to Initial 
(§ 100). When, again, there is much Drift (§ 154), the Terminal 
will become Median stress (§ 102). 
Orotund Quality (§ 135). 

66. SUFFERINGS AND DESTINY OF THE PILGRIMS. 

Edivavd Everett. 

Methinks I see it now, that one | solitary, | adventurous vessel, 
the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a 
future I state, and bound across the unknown | sfea. I behold it 
pursuing, with a thousand | misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious 

m s R C up and prone w R C to br w 

voyage. Suns | rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and win- 
mRC to msC wmC to_ f 

ter surprises them on the d&ep, but brings them not the sight of the 

m RC 

wished-for shore. I see them now, scantily | supplied with provi- 
sions, crowded almost to suffbcation | in their ill-stored prison, de- 

m tr R C and w to m f R C 
layed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and now driven in fury 

h RC hRCpr 

before the raging tempest, on the high and giddy wave. The awful 
h RC hRC ^ R 

voice of the storm howls through the rigging; the laboring masts 
C down to 1 RC 1 L O 

seem straining from their base; the dismal sound of the pumps is 
1 L O 1 L O ^ higher m O m O w 

heard; the ship leaps, as it were, m^dly, Irom billow to billow; the 
mtrLC wlLCtols LC 

ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating 
1 L C 1 LC 1 LC 

d^ck, and beats, with deadening, shivering weight, against the 



SELECTIOXS fOR DECLAMATION. 259 

1 L C 

staggered vessel. I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing 

their all but desperate | undertaking, and landed, at last, after a 

1 BO 
few I months' | passage, on the ice-clad rocks | of Pl5anouth. — 

wider BO wide 

weak I and weary | from the voyage, | poorly | armed, | scantily | 
BO w h B C w 1 B C w m 8 B C 

provisioned, without | shelter, without | m^ans, surrounded by hos- 
tile tribes. 

Shut, now, the volume of history, and t^ll me, on any principle 

of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of ad- 

1 tr vv R O 

venturers? T^ll me, man of military science, in how many months 

w 8 R C 

were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated 

1 tr w L ^ o 
within the early limits of New England. Tell me, politician, how 

long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and 

w ^ 8 ^L C _ ^ 1 tr w B 

treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast ? Student of 
O BO B C B 

history, compare for me the baffled | projects, the deserted | s^ttle- 

C B C 

mf-nts. the abandoned I adventures, of other I times, and find the 

B O 

parallel | of this! Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the house- 
less I heads of women and children ? was it hard | labor and spare j 
m^als? was it disease? was it the tomahawk? was it the deep 1 
malady of a blighted | hope, a riiined | Enterprise, and a broken j 
heart, | aching, in its last | moments, at the recollection of the 

If R O s RO ^ w 

loved and left, beyond the s6a? — was it some, or all of these united, 

IRC to _ msRC _ msRC^ 

that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy f^te ? And 
wsC 1 BO BO 

is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all | combined, 

wis c 1 R O 

were able to blast | this bud | of hope! Is it possible that from a 

w m 8 C ^ 

beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy not so much of admiration 
1 R O f B O wider 

as of pity, there has gone forth a progress | so steady, a growth | so 

BO h and wider BO 1 BO 

wonderful, | an expansion | so ample, a reality | so important, a 
h BO m BO 

promise, yet to be fulfilled, | so glorious! 



260 OKATOR'S MA^rUAL. 



67. NATIONS AND HUMANITY.— G^eo. W. Curtis. 

It was not his olive valleys and orange groves which made 
the Greece of the Greek, it was not for his apple orchards 
or potato fields that the farmer of New England and New 
York left his plough in the furrow and marched to Bunker 
Hill, to Bennington, to Saratoga. A man's country is not 
a certain area of land, but it is a principle; and patriotism 
is loyalty to that principle. The secret sanctification of the 
soil and symbol of a country is the idea which they repre- 
sent; and this idea the patriot worships through the name 
and the symbol. 

So with passionate heroism, of which tradition is never 
weary of tenderly telling, Arnold von Winkelried gathers 
into his bosom the sheaf of foreign spears. So, Nathan 
Hale, disdaining no service that duty demands, perishes 
untimely with no other friend than God and the satisfied 
sense of duty. So, through all history from the beginning, 
a noble army of martyrs has fought fiercely, and fallen 
bravely, for that unseen mistress, their country. So, 
through all history to the end, that army must still march, 
and fight, and fall. 

But countries and families are but nurseries and influ- 
ences. A man is a father, a brother, a German, a Roman, 
an American; but beneath all these relations, he is a man. 
The end of his human destiny is not to be the best German, 
or the best Roman, or the best father; but the best man he 
can be. 

History shows us that the association of men in various 
nations is made subservient to the gradual advance of the 
whole human race; and that all nations work together to- 
ward one grand result. So, to the philosophic eye, the race 
is but a vast caravan forever moving, but seeming often to 
encamp for centuries at some green oasis of ease, where lux- 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 261 

ury lures away heroism, as soft Capua enervated the hosts 
of Hannibal. 

But still the march proceeds, — slowly, slowly over 
mountains, through valleys, along plains, marking its 
course with monumental splendors, with wars, plagues, 
crimes, advancing still, decorated with all the pomp of 
nature, lit by the constellations, cheered by the future, 
warned by the past. In that vast march, the van forgets 
the rear; the individual is lost; and yet the multitude is 
but many individuals. The man faints, and falls, and dies, 
and is forgotten; but still mankind moves on, still worlds 
revolve, and the will of God is done in earth and heaven. 

We of America, with our soil sanctified and our symbol 
glorified by the great ideas of liberty and religion, — love of 
freedom and love of God, — are in the foremost vanguard of 
this great caravan of humanity. To us rulers look, and 
learn justice, while they tremble; to us the nations look, 
and learn to hope, while they rejoice. Our heritage is all 
the love and heroism of liberty in the past; and all the 
great of the Old World are our teachers. 

Our faith is in God and the Right; and God himself is, 
we believe, our Guide and Leader. Though darkness some- 
times shadows our national sk}^, though confusion comes 
from error, and success breeds corruption, yet will the 
storm pass in God's good time, and in clearer sky and purer 
atmosphere our national life grow stronger and nobler, 
sanctified more and more, consecrated to God and liberty by 
the martyrs who fall in the strife for the just and true. 

And so, with our individual hearts strong in love for our 
principles, strong in faith in our God, shall the nation leave 
to coming generations a heritage of freedom, and law, and 
religion, and truth, more glorious than the world has 
known before; and our American banner be planted first 
and highest on heights as yet unwon in the great march of 
humanity. 



262 ORATOE'S MA]SrUAL. 

68. AN APPEAL TO THE PEOPLE. -/oM Bright. 

Our opponents have charged us with being the promot- 
ers of a dangerous excitement. They have the effrontery 
to say that I am the friend of public disorder. I am one of 
the people. Surely, if there be one thing in a free country 
more clear than another, it is that any one of the people 
may speak openly to the people. If I speak to the people 
of their rights, and indicate to them the way to secure 
them, — if I speak of their danger to the monopolists of 
power, — am I not a wise counselor, both to the people and 
to their rulers? 

Suppose I stood at the foot of Vesuvius, or jEtna, and, 
seeing a hamlet or a homestead planted on its slope, I said 
to the dwellers in that hamlet, or in that homestead, " You 
see that vapor which ascends from the summit of the 
mountain: that vapor may become a dense, black smoke, 
that will obscure the sky. You see the trickling of lava 
from the crevices in the side of the mountain: that trickl- 
ing of lava may become a river of fire. You hear that 
muttering in the bowels of the mountain: that muttering 
may become a bellowing thunder, the voice of a violent 
convulsion, that may shake half a continent. You know 
that at your feet is the grave of great cities, for which 
there is no resurrection, as histories tell us that dynasties 
and aristocracies have passed away, and their names have 
been known no more forever." 

If I say this to the dwellers upon the slope of the mount- 
ain, and if there comes hereafter a catastrophe which makes 
the world to shudder, am I responsible for that catastrophe? 
I did not build the mountain, or fill it with explosive mate- 
rials. I merely warned the men that were in danger. So, 
now, it is not I who am stimulating men to the violent pur- 
suit of their acknowledged constitutional rights. 

The class which has hitherto ruled in this country has 



SELECTIOJq'S FOR DECLAMATIOX. 263 

failed miserably. It revels in power and wealth, whilst at 
its feet, a terrible peril for its future, lies the multitude 
which it has neglected. If a class has failed, let us try the 
nation. 

That is our faith, that is our purpose, that is our cry. 
Let us try the nation. This it is which has called together 
these countless numbers of the people to demand a change; 
and from these gatherings, sublime in their vastness and 
their resolution, I think I see, as it were, above the hill- 
tops of time, the glimmerings of the dawn of a better and 
a nobler day for the country and for the people that I love 
so well. 

DIGNIFIED AND GRAVE. 

220. Predominating time slow; pitch low; force moderate (§ 116), 
effusive (§ 112) and exjndsive (§§ 115, 119); stress median (§ 102) 
and in strong passages terminal (§ 101); quality orotund (§ 135). 

69. GALILEO GMAISEI.— Edward Everett.'^ 

(P) There is much | in every way | in the city | of Florence | to 
excite | the curiosity, | kindle | the imagination, and gratify | the 
taste; but among all | its fascinations, | addressed to the s^nse, the 
memory, and the h^art, there was none to which I more frequently 
gave a meditative | hour, | during a year's | residence, | than to the 

w 1 R O ^ 

spot I where Galileo | Galilei | sleeps | beneath the marble 1 floor 1 of 

1 R C w m R C _ tr 

Santa Crdce; no building on which I gazed with greater | reverence | 

and to m s R C 

than I did upon that modest | mansion at Arcetri; villa once and 

prison, in which that venerable | sage, | by the command of the In- 

m s C prone 
quisition, passed the sad | closing years of his life. 

Of all the wonders | of ancient | and modern | art, statues | and 
paintings, jewels | and manuscripts, the admiration | and delight | 
of ages, there was nothing I beheld with more affectionate | awe | 

w 1 L ^ O _ h 

than that poor | little spy-glass, through which the human eye first | 
* This Selection belongs in § 219. 



264 orator's manual. 

L C F change 

pierced | the clouds | of visual | eiTor, which | from the creation | 

to m 8 f L C and drop 

of the world | had involved | the system | of the Universe. 

There are occasions in life | in which great | minds | live y^ars 

of rapt I enjoyment | in a moment. (0) I can fancy the emotions of 
hRCF 
f Galileo, when, first | raising | the newly- constructed telescope | 

change to h R C 

to the heavens, he saw fulfilled the grand | prophecy | of Coper- 
change to h C F h C 
nicus, and beheld the planet Vfenus, crescent like the moon. {A 0) 

It was such another moment as that | when the immortal printers 

IfLO 
of M^ntz and Strasburg received the first copy of the Bible into 

1 8 LO lift f LC 
their h^nds; like that, when Columbus, through the gray | dawn 

m f LC 

of the 12th of October, 1493, first beheld the shores of San S^lva- 
down 1 R O 

dor; like that when Le Vferrier received back from Berlin the 

RCF^ 
tidings that the predicted planet was found. 

1 LO 1 LO 

ff (0) Y^s! noble Galileo! thou wast right: "It do^s move." 

1 BO BO 
Bigots may make thee recant it; but it moves | still. (A 0) Y^s, 

hRC F wtotrRC 

the earth | moves; and the planets move; and the mighty waters 

wmRCto ms RC w 

move; and the great sweeping | tides of air move; and the em- 
tobrRC wmRC tomsRC and f 

pires of m^n move; and the world of thought moves ever | on- 
R C and to hRC h R C^ w h s R C 

ward I and ever | upward | to higher facts and bolder theories, 
h s R C drop s R C prone 

P (0) Hang up || that poor | little | spy-glass; it has done | its 
work. 

Franciscans and Dominicans may deride | thy discoveries | 

/ now; (A 0) but the time will come | when from two | hundred | 

observatories, | in Europe and America, | the glorious | artillery | 

hfBC whBCto 

/''of science 1 shall nightly assault the skies; but they shall gain no | 

hsBC wmBO and 

conquests | in those glittering fields, before which thine shall be 

down 
forgotten. 

m BO 
/ (0) Rest in pfeace, great 1 Columbus | of the heftvens! like 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 265 

wm BC w mBC w mBC 

him I scorned, | persecuted, | broken-hearted. In other | ages, in 

distant | hemispheres, when the votaries of science, with solemn | 

lift BO to 

acts of consecration, shall dedicate their stately edifices to the 

h BO 1 BO 

cause of knowledge and of truth, | thy name | shall be men- 
tioned I with honor. 

70. CRIME ITS OWN DETECT0R.-2?a«ieZ Webster. 

Gentlemen: This is a most extraordinary case. An aged 
man, without an enemy in the world, in his own house, and 
in his own bed, is made the victim of a butcherly murder 
for mere pay. Deep sleep has fallen on the destined vic- 
tim, and on all beneath hisToof. 

The assassin enters through the window, already pre- 
pared, into an unoccupied apartment; with noiseless foot 
he paces the lonely hall, half lighted by the moon ; he winds 
up the ascent of the staii's, and reaches the door of the 
chamber. Of this he moves the lock, by soft and continued 
pressure, till it turns on its hinges; and he enters and be- 
holds his victim before him. The room is uncommonly 
light. The face of the innocent sleeper is turned from the 
murderer; and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray 
locks of his aged temple, show him where to strike. The 
fatal blow is given, and the victim passes, without a 
struggle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose 
of death! It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work; 
and he yet plies the dagger, though it is obvious that life 
had been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even 
raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the 
heart, and replaces it again over the wounds of the poniard! 
To finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse! 
He feels it, and ascertains that it beats no longer. It is 
accomplished! The deed is done! He retreats, retraces 
his steps to the window, passes through as he came in, and 
12 



266 orator's mai^ual. 

escapes. He has done the murder; no eye has seen him, no 
ear has heard him ; the secret is his own, and it is safe. 

Ah! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a 
secret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has 
neither nook nor corner where the guilty can bestow it and 
say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which pierces 
through all disguises, and beholds everything as in the 
splendor of noon, — such secrets of guilt are never safe; 
" murder will out." A thousand eyes turn at once to ex- 
plore every man, every thing, every circumstance, connected 
with the time and place; a thousand ears catch every whis- 
per; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the scene, 
shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest 
circumstance into a blaze of discovery. 

Meantime the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It 
is false to itself; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of 
conscience to be true to itself. The secret which the mur- 
derer possesses soon comes to possess him; and like the evil 
spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him 
whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, ris- 
ing to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the 
whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and al- 
most hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. 
It has become his master; — it betrays his discretion; it 
breaks down his courage ; it conquers his prudence. When 
suspicions, from without, begin to embarrass him, and the 
net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret strug- 
gles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be 
confessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from con- 
fession but in suicide, and suicide is confession. 

71. ADAMS AND JEFFEBSO'^.— Edward Everett. 

No, fellow-citizens, we dismiss not Adams and JeiBferson 
to the chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we ad- 
mired, and prized, and venerated in them can never die, nor, 



SELECTI02TS FOR DECLAMATION. 267 

dying, be forgotten. I had almost said that the}^ are now 
beginning to live, — to live that life of unimpaired influence, 
of unclouded fame, of unmingled happiness, for which their 
talents and services were destined. They were of the select 
few, the least portion of whose life dwells in their physical 
existence; whose hearts have watched while their senses 
slept; whose souls have grown up into a higher being; 
whose pleasure is to be useful; whose wealth is an unblem- 
ished reputation ; who respire the breath of honorable fame ; 
who have deliberately and consciously put what is called life 
to hazard, that they may live in the hearts of those who 
come after. Such men do not, can not die. 

To be cold, and motionless, and breathless; to feel not 
and speak not: this is not the end of existence to the men 
who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their 
country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of 
the age, who have poured their heart's blood into the chan- 
nels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the 
sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not 
still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant 
heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplen- 
dent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon 
his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? 

Tell me, ye who make your jdIous pilgrimage to the 
shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that cold 
and narrow house? That which made these men, and men 
like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of 
independence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that 
sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that conceived, 
resolved, matured, maintained it, and which alone, to such 
men, "make it life to live," these cannot expire: 

" These shall resist the empire of decay, 
When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away: 
Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
But that which warmed it once can never die." 



268 oratok's manual. 

72. DEATH OF CO'PEII-NICVS.— Edward Everett. 

At length he draws near his end. He is seventy-three 
years of age, and he yields his work on " The Revolutions 
of the Heavenly Orbs " to his friends for publication. The 
day at last has come on which it is to be ushered into the 
world. It is the 24th of May, 1543. 

On that day — the effect, no doubt, of the intense excite- 
ment of his mind, operating upon an exhausted frame — an 
effusion of blood brings him to the gates of the grave. His 
last hour has come; he lies stretched upon the couch from 
which he will never rise. 

The beams of the setting sun glance through the Gothic 
windows of his chamber; near his bedside is the armillary 
sphere which he has contrived to represent his theory of the 
heavens; his picture painted by himself, the amusement of 
his earlier years, hangs before him ; beneath it are his astro- 
labe and other imperfect astronomical instruments; and 
around him are gathered his sorrowing disciples. 

The door of the apartment opens ; the eye of the depart- 
ing sage is turned to see who enters: it is a friend who 
brings him the first printed copy of his immortal treatise. 
He knows that in that book he contradicts all that has ever 
been distinctly taught by former philosophers; he knows 
that he has rebelled against the sway of Ptolemy, which 
the scientific w^orld has acknowledged for a thousand years; 
he knows that the popular mind will be shocked by his in- 
novations ; he knows that the attempt will be made to press 
even religion into the service against him; but he knows 
that his book is true. 

He is dying, but he leaves a glorious truth as his dying 
bequest to the world. He bids the friend who has brought 
it place himself between the window and his bedside, that 
the sun's rays may fall upon the precious volume, and he 
may behold it once more before his eye grows dim. He 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 269 

looks upon it, takes it in his hands, presses it to his breast, 
and expires. 

But no, he is not wholly gone. A smile lights up his 
dying countenance; a beam of returning intelligence kindles 
in his eye; his lips move; and the friend who leans over 
him can hear him faintly murmur the beautiful sentiments 
which the Christian lyrist of a later age has so finely ex- 
pressed in verse: 

" Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, with all your feeble light; 
Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, pale empress of the night; 
And thou, effulgent orb of day, in brighter flames arrayed; 
My soul, which springs beyond thy sphere, no more demands thy 

aid. 
Ye stars are but the shining dust of my divine abode, 
The pavement of those heavenly courts where I shall reign with 

God." 

So died the great Columbus of the heavens. 

73. SPEECH OP VINDICATION.— iJoJer^; Emmett. 

My Lords: What have I to say why sentence of death 
should not be pronounced on me, according to law? — I have 
nothing to say that can alter your predetermination, nor 
that it will become me to say, with any view to the mitiga- 
tion of that sentence which you are here to pronounce, and 
I must abide by. But I have that to say which interests 
me more than life, and which you have labored to destroy. 
I have much to say why my reputation should be rescued 
from the load of false accusation and calumny which has 
been heaped upon it. 

Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty 
by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate 
that awaits me without a murmur; but the sentence of law 
which delivers my body to the executioner will, through the 
ministry of that law, labor, in its own vindication, to con- 
sign my character to obloquy; for there must be guilt some- 



270 orator's manual. 

where — wliether in the sentence of the court, or in the 
catastrophe, posterity must determine. The man dies, but 
his memory lives. That mine may not perish, — that it may 
live in the respect of my countrymen, — I seize upon this 
opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the charges 
alleged against me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a 
more friendly port; when my shade shall have joined the 
bands of those martyred heroes who have shed their blood, 
on the scaffold and in the field, in defense of their country 
and virtue; this is my hope, — I wish that my memory and 
name may animate those who survive me, while I look down 
with complacency on the destruction of that perfidious gov- 
ernment which upholds its domination by blasphemy of the 
Most High, which displays its power over man as over the 
beast of the forest, which sets man uj)on his brother, and 
lifts his hand, in the name of God, against the throat of his 
fellow, who believes or doubts a little more or less than the 
government standard, — a government which is steeled to 
barbarity by the cries of the orphans and the tears of the 
widows, which its cruelty has made. 

T swear, by the throne of Heaven, before which I must 
shortly appear, — by the blood of the murdered patriots who 
have gone before me, — that my conduct has been, through 
all this peril, and all my purposes, governed only by the 
convictions which I have uttered, and no other view than 
that of the emancipation of my country from the super- 
inhuman oppression under which she has so long, and too 
patiently, travailed; and that I confidently and assuredly 
hope (wild and chimerical as it may appear) there is still 
union and strength in Ireland to accomplish this noble 
enterprise. 

I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor for 
the same reason that I would resist the domestic tyrant; in 
the dignity of freedom I would have fought upon the 
threshold of my country, and her enemies should enter only 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 271 

by passing over my lifeless corpse. Am I, who lived but for 
my country, and who have subjected myself to the ven- 
geance of the jealous and wrathful oppressor, and to the 
bondage of the grave, only to give my countrymen their 
rights, — am I to be loaded with calumny, and not to be 
suffered to resent or repel it? Xo! — God forbid! 

My Lords, you are all impatient for the sacrifice. The 
blood which you seek is not congealed by the artificial 
terrors which surround your victim; it circulates warmly 
and unruffled, through the channels which God created for 
noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy, for pur- 
poses so grievous that they cry to heaven! Be yet patient! 
I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my 
silent grave; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished; my 
race is run ; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into 
its bosom. I have but one request to ask at my departure 
from this world, — it is the charity of its silence. Let no 
man write my epitaph ; for, as no one who knows my motives 
dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance 
asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity and 
peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times, 
and other men, can do justice to my character. When my 
country shall take her place among the nations of the earth, 
then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written! 

74. DEATH OF JOHN Q. ADAMS.-/. E. Holmes. 

Mr. Speaker: The mingled tones of sorrow, like the voice 
of many waters, have come unto us from a sister state — 
Massachusetts, weeping for her honored son. The state I 
have the honor in part to represent once endured, with 
yours, a common suffering, battled for a common cause, and 
rejoiced in a common triumph. Surely, then, it is meet 
that in this the day of your affliction we should mingle our 
griefs. 



272 orator's manual. 

When a great man falls, the nation mourns; when a 
patriarch is removed, the people weep. Ours, my associates, 
is no common bereavement. The chain which linked our 
hearts with the gifted spirits of former times has been sud- 
denly snapped. The lips from which flowed those living and 
glorious truths that our fathers uttered are closed in death. 
Yes, my friends. Death has been among us! He has not 
entered the humble cottage of some unknown, ignoble peas- 
ant; he has knocked audibly at the palace of a nation! His 
footstep has been heard in the halls of state ! He has cloven 
down his victim in the midst of the councils of a people. 
He has borne in triumph from among you the gravest, 
wisest, most reverend head. Ah! he has taken him as a 
trophy who was once chief over many statesmen, adorned 
with virtue, and learning, and truth; he has borne at his 
chariot wheels a renowned one of the earth. 

How often we have crowded into that aisle, and clustered 
around that now vacant desk, to listen to the counsels of 
wisdom as they fell from the lips of the venerable sage, we 
can all remember, for it was but of yesterday. But what a 
change! How wondrous! how sudden! 'Tis like a vision 
of the night. That form which we beheld but a few days 
since is now cold in death ! 

But the last Sabbath, and in this hall he worshiped with 
others. Now his spirit mingles with the noble army of mar- 
tyrs and the just made perfect, in the eternal adoration of 
the living God. With him, " this is the end of earth." He 
sleeps the sleep that knows no waking. He is gone — and 
forever! The sun that ushers in the morn of that next 
holy day, while it gilds the lofty dome of the capitol, shall 
rest with soft and mellow light upon the consecrated spot 
beneath whose turf forever lies the Patriot Father and the 
Patriot Sage. 



SELECTIOXS ¥0R DECLAMATION. 273 



DRAMATIC AND DESCRIPTIVE. 

221. In these. Emphasis varies according to the sentiment: me- 
dian stress (§ 102) and natural (§§ 113-116) tending to sustained 
(§§ 111, 112) force, unless something else is mentioned. 

222. Fast Movement. 

75. LOCHIXVAR'S 'RYD'E..—Sir Walter Scott. 
Expulsive P. and O., high pitch, varied melody. 

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West! 
Through all the wide border his steed was the best; 
And save his good broadsword he weapon had none; 
He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone; 
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; 
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
The bride had consented, — the gallant came late; 
For a laggard in love, and a dastard m war, 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby hail , 

Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all. 

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, — 

For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word, — 

" Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar? '* 

'*I long wooed your daughter; — my suit you denied: 
Love swells like the Sol way, but ebbs like its tide; 
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine 
To lead but one measure, — drink one cup of wine. 
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 

The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up; 
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup; 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye; 



274 orator's MAlsTTAL. 

He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar; — 
" Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form and so lovely her face, 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace; 

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 

And the bridegroom stood dn^ngling his bonnet and plume, 

And the bridemaidens whispered, " 'twere better, by far. 

To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.'* 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear. 

When they reached the hall door, where the charger stood near; 

So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 

So light to the saddle before her he sprung; — 

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; 

They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; 

Fosters, Fenwicks and Musgraves, they rode and they ran] 

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie lea, 

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 

So daring in love and so dauntless in war — 

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 



76. HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT. 
Robert Browning. 

Explosive O., medium pitch, varied melody. 

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; 

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; 

" Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; 

" Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; 

Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 

And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace 
Neck by neck, stride for stride, never changing our place; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight. 
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 
Rebuckled the cheek- strap, chained slacker the bit, — 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOiq-. 275 

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near 

Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 

At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; 

At DiifFeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; 

And from ]\Iecheln church- steeple we heard the half-chime. 

So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" 

At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past, 
And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last. 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray. 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; 
And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance. 
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon 
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! 
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, 
We'll remember at Aix" — for one heard the quick wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees 
^nd sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 

So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 

Past Looz and past Tongr6s, no cloud in the sky; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 

'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 

Till over by Dalhem a dome- spire sprang white. 

And " Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!" 

*' How they'll greet us!" — and all in a moment his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 



276 ORATOK^S MANUAL. 

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, 

Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 

Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 

Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; 

Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, 

Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

And all I remember is, friends flocking round. 

As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, 

And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 

As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 

Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 

Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. 

223. Moderately Fast Movement. 

77. THE BATTLE OF lYRY.— Thomas B. Macaulay. 
Explosive O., high pitch. 

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are! 
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre! 
Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, 
Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vales, pleasant land of 

France ! 
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters; 
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy. 
For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. 
Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war. 
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre! 

The King has come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, 

And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. 

He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; 

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. 

Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, 

Down all our line, in deafening shout, "God save our lord, the 

King! " 
"And if my standard-bearer fall, — as fall full well he may 
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, — 
Press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war, 
And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre." 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATION. 277 

Hurrah ! the foes are moving ! Hark to the mingled din 

Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin! 

The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain, 

With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. 

Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 

Charge for the golden lilies now, — upon them with the lance! 

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, 

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest, 

And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star. 

Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath turned his rein, 
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter — the Flemish Count is slain; 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. 
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright! 
Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night! 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, 
And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave. 
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are; 
And glory to our sovereign lord. King Henry of Navarre! 

78. THE BURIAL-MAECH OF 'D'Oli^'D'EE.— Wtttiam E. Aytoun. 
Idem, medium pitch. 

On the heights of Killiecrankie 

Tester- morn our army lay; 
Slowly rose the mist in columns 

From the river's broken way; 
Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, 

And the pass was wrapped in gloom. 
When the clansmen rose together 

From their lair amidst the broom. 

Then we belted on our tartans, 

And our bonnets down we drew, 
And we felt our broadswords' edges, 

And we proved them to be true; 
And we prayed the prayer of soldiers. 

And we cried the gathering-cry. 
And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, 

And we swore to do or die! 



278 orator's man-ual. 

Then our leader rode before us 

On his war-horse black as night, — 
Well the Cameronian rebels 

Knew that charger in the fight ! — 
And a cry of exultation 

From the bearded warriors rose; 
For we loved the house of Claver'se, 

And we thought of good Montrose. 
But he raised his hand for silence — 

" Soldiers! I have sworn a vow: 
Ere the evening star shall glisten 

On Schehallion's lofty brow, 
Either we shall rest in triumph, 

Or another of the Graemes 
Shall have died in battle -harness 

For his Country and King James! 

4f * * * * * 

Strike ! and when the fight is over, 
If ye look in vain for me, 

Where the dead are lying thickest, 
Search for him that was Dundee! " 



Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet 

Sounding in the pass below. 
And the distant tramp of horses, 

And the voices of the foe; 
Down we crouched amid the bracken, 

Till the Lowland ranks drew near, 
Panting like the hounds in summer. 

When they scent the stately deer. 
From the dark defile emerging, 

Next we saw the squadrons come, 
Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers 

Marching to the tuck of drum; 
Through the scattered wood of birches, 

O'er the broken ground and heath, 
Wound the long battalion slowly. 

Till they gained the plain beneath; 
Then we bounded from our covert, — 

Judge how looked the Saxons then, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^-. 279 

When they saw the rugged mountains 

Start to life with arm6d men! 
Like a tempest down the ridges 

Swept the hurricane of steel, 
Rose the slogan of Macdonald, — 

Flashed the broadsword of Lochiel! 

Horse and man went down before us, — 

Living foe there tamed none 
On the field of Killiecrankie, 

When that stubborn fight was done! 

And the evening star was shining 

On Schehallion's distant head, 
When we wiped our bloody broadswords, 

And returned to count the dead. 
There we found him gashed and gory, 

Stretched upon the cumbered plain, 
As he told us where to seek him. 

In the thickest of the slain. 
And a smile was on his visage. 

For within his dying ear 
Pealed the joyful note of triumph. 

And the clansman's clamorous cheer: 
So, amidst the battle's thunder, 

Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, 
In the glory of his manhood 

Passed the spirit of the Grseme! 

Open wide the vaults of AthoU, 

Where the bones of heroes rest, — 
Open wide the hallowed portals 

To receive another guest! 
Last of Scots and last of freemen, — 

Last of all that dauntless race. 
Who would rather die unsullied 

Than outlive the land's disgracel 



280 orator's MAIS'UAL. 



79. MARMION AND DOUGLAS.— ^ir Walter Scott, 
Idem, varied melody and movement. 

The train from out the castle drew, 
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : — 

*' Though something I might 'plain," he said, 
" Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
Sent thither by your king's behest, 

While in Tantallon's towers I stayed, 
Part we in friendship from your land. 
And, noble Earl, receive my hand." 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak. 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke: — 
" My manors, halls, and bowers shall still 
Be open, at my sovereign's will. 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
Unmeet to be the owner's peer; 
My castle's are my king's alone, 
From turret to foundation stone, — 
The hand of Douglas is his own. 
And never shall in friendly grasp 
The hand of such as Marmion clasp." 

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fir^ 
And shook his very frame for ire, 

And — "This to me! " he said, — 
"An 't were not for thy hoary beard, 
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 

To cleave the Douglas' head! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, 
He who does England's message here, 
Although the meanest in her state. 
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate! 
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 

Even in thy pitch of pride. 
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 
(Nay, never look upon your lord, 
And lay your hand upon your sword,) 

I tell thee thou 'rt defied! 
And if thou saidst I am not peer 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 281 

To any lord in Scotland here, 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, 

Lord Angus, thoa hast lied! " 
On the EarFs cheek the flush of rage 
O'ercame the ashen hue of age: 
Fierce he broke forth, — "And dar'st thou then 
To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his hall ? 
And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go? 
No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no! 
Up drawbridge, grooms! — What, warder, ho! 

Let the portcullis fall." 
Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need! — 
And dashed the rowels in his steed. 
Like arrow through the archway sprung; 
The ponderous grate behind him rung: 
To pass there was such scanty room, 
The bars, descending, razed his plume. 

The steed along the drawbridge flies, 

Just as it trembled on the rise; 

Isot lighter does the swallow skim_ 

Along the smooth lake's level brim; 

And when Lord Marmion reached his band, 

He halts and turns with clenched hand. 

And shout of loud defiance pours. 

And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

" Horse! horse! " the Douglas cried, " and chase! " 

But soon he reined his fury's pace: 

"A royal messenger he came. 

Though most unworthy of the name. 

St. Mary, mend my fiery mood! 
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, 
I thought to slay him where he stood. 
'Tis pity of him, too," he cried; 
" Bold can he speak, and fairly ride, 
I warrant him a warrior tried," 
With this his mandate he recalls, 
And slowly seeks his castle walls. 
12* 



282 orator's manual. 

80. THE SONG OF THE CAM-p.-Bayard Taylor. 

AN rNCIDENT OF THE CKIMEAN WAR. 

Effusive and expulsive O., medium pitch, sustained force. 

" Give us a song! " tlie soldiers cried, 
The outer trenches guarding, 

When the heated guns of the camps allied 
Grew weary of bombarding. 

The dark Redan, in silent scoff. 

Lay, grim and threatening, under; 

And the tawny mound of the Malakoff 
No longer belched its thunder. 

There was a pause. A guardsman said: 
" We storm the forts to-morrow; 

Sing while we may, another day 
Will bring enough of sorrow." 

They lay along the battery's side, 
Below the smoking cannon; 

Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, 
And from the banks of Shannon. 

They sang of love and not of fame; 

Forgot was Britain's glory; 
Each heart recalled a different name, 

But all sang "Annie Laurie." 

Voice after voice caught up the song. 

Until its tender passion 
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,— 

Their battle-eve confession. 

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak. 
But, as the song grew louder, 

Something upon the soldier's cheek 
Washed off the stains of powder. 

Beyond the darkening ocean burned 
The bloody sunset's embers, 

While the Crimean valleys learned 
How English love remembers. 



SELECTIONS FOil DECLAMATION. 283 

And once again a fire of hell 

Rained on the Russian quarters, 
With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 

And bellowing of the mortars! 

And Irish Nora's eyes are dim 

For a singer, dumb and gory; 
And English Mary mourns for him 

Who sang of "Annie Laurie." 

Sleep, soldiers ! still in honored rest 

Your truth and valor wearing : 
The bravest are the tenderest, — 

The loving are the daring. 

234. Moderate Movement. 

8L THE WRECK OP THE HESPERUS.— iTmry W. Longfellow^ 
Eiffusive and expulsive O., medium and high pitch, varied melody. 

It was the schooner Hesperus 

That sailed the wintry sea; 
And the skipper had taken his little daughter 

To bear him company. 

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, 

Her cheeks like the dawn of day, 
And her bosom white as the havd;hom buds 

That ope in the month of May. 

The skipper he stood beside the helm, 

His pipe was in his mouth. 
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow 

The smoke now west now south. 

Then up and spake an old sailor, 

Had sailed the Spanish main, 
" I pray thee put into yonder port, 

For I fear a hurricane. 

" Last night the moon had a golden ring, 

And to-night no moon we see ! " 
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, 

And a scornful laugh laughed he. 



284 orator's manual. 

Colder and louder blew the wind, 

A gale from the northeast; 
The snow fell hissing in the brine, 

And the billows frothed like yeast. 

Down came the storm, and smote amain 

The vessel in its strength; 
She shuddered and paused like a frightened steed, 

Then leaped her cable's length. 

** Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, 

And do not tremble so; 
For I can weather the roughest gale, 

That ever wind did blow." 

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat 

Against the stinging blast; 
He cut a rope from a broken spar, 

And bound her to the mast. 

'* Oh, father! I hear the church-bells ring, 

Oh, say, what may it be? " 
** 'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast! " — 

And he steered for the open sea. 

"Oh, father! I hear the sound of guns, 

Oh, say 5 what may it be ? " 
"Some ship in distress, that cannot live 

In such an angry sea! " 

" Oh, father! I see a gleaming light, 

Oh, say, what may it be? " 
But the father answered never a word, 

A frozen corpse was he. 

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, 
With his face turned to the skies, 

The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow 
On his fixed and glassy eyes. 

. Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed 
That sav^d she might be; 
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave 
On the lake of Galilee. 



SELECTIONS rOR DECLAMATION. 285 

And fast through the midnight dark and drear, 

Through the whistling sleet and snow, 
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept 

Toward the reef of Norman's Woe. 

And ever, the fitful gusts between 

A sound came from the land; 
It was the sound of the trampling surf 

On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 

The breakers were right beneath her bows, 

She drifted a dreary wreck, 
And a whooping billow swept the crew 

Like icicles from her deck. 

She struck where the white and fleecy waves 

Looked soft as carded wool, 
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side 

Like the horns of an angry bull. 

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, 

With the masts went by the board ; 
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, 

Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! 

At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach, 

A fisherman stood aghast. 
To see the form of a maiden fair 

Lashed close to a drifting mast. 

The salt sea was frozen on her breast, 

The salt tears in her eyes ; 
And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, 

On the billows fall and rise. 

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 

In the midnight and the snow! 
Christ save us all from a death like this, 

On the reef of Norman's Woe! 



286 orator's manual. 

82. MARCO BOZZABl^.—Fitz Greene Halleck. 
Effusive and Explosive O., medium pitch, varied melody. 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power: 
In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror; 

In dreams, his song of triumph heard; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
Then pressed that monarch's throne, — a king; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing. 

As Eden's garden bird. 

An hour passed on, — the Turk awoke; 

That bright dream was his last; 
He woke to hear his sentries shriek — 
"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek! ' 
He woke, to die midst flame and smoke. 
And shout, and groan and saber-stroke. 

And death- shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud; 
And heard with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : — 
" Strike, — till the last armed foe expires! 
Strike, — for your altars and your fires! 
STRIKE, — for the green graves of your sires! 

God, and your native land! " 

They fought, like brave men, long and well; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain; 
They conquered : but Bozzaris fell 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOJ^". 287 

Come to the bridal chamber, Death! 

Come to the mother when she feels 
For the first time her first-born's breath; 

Come when the blessed seals 
That close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke; 
Come in Consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake's shock, the ocean's storm; 
Come when the heart beats hig-h and warm, 

With banquet song, and dance, and wine,^ 
And thou art terrible : the tear. 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear, 

Of agony, are thine. 

But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
BozzARis ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee: there is no prouder grave. 

Even in her own proud clime. 

We tell thy doom without a sigh; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, — 
One of the few immortal names, 

That were not born to die ! 



83. THE LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP.- Senry W. Longfellow 

Idem. 

All is finished ! and at length 

Has come the bridal day 

Of beauty and of strength. 

To-day the vessel shall be launched! 

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 

And o'er the bay, 

Slowly, in all his splendors dight. 

The great sun rises to behold the sight. 



288 orator's max UAL. 

Then the Master, 

With a gesture of command, 

Waved his hand; 

And at the word, 

Loud and sudden there was heard, 

All around them and below, 

The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 

Knocking away the shores and spurs. 

And see ! she stirs ! 

She starts — she moves — she seems to feel 

The thrill of life along her keel. 

And, spurning with her foot the ground, 

With one exulting, joyous bound, 

She leaps into the ocean's arms! 

And lo ! from the assembled crowd 

There rose a shout, prolonged and loud. 

That to the ocean seemed to say, 

" Take her, bridegroom old and gray; 

Take her to thy protecting arms. 

With all her youth and all her charms." 

How beautiful she is ! how fair 

She lies within those arms, that press 

Her form with many a soft caress 

Of tenderness and watchful care ! 

.'^ail forth into the sea, ship ! 

Through wind and wave, right onward steer! 

The moistened eye, the trembling lip. 

Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 

Thou, too, sail on, Ship of State, 
Sail on, Union, strong and great! 
Humanity, with all its fears 
With all the hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate! 
We know what master laid thy keel, 
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope. 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge and what a heat 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! 



SELECTIONS FOR declamatio:n'. 289 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 

"Tis of the wave and not the rock; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale! 

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears. 

Are all with thee — are aU with thee! 

84. THREE DAYS IN THE LIFE OF COUJMBJJ S.-Ddavigne. 
Idem. 

On the deck stood Columbus; the ocean's expanse, 

Untried and unlimited, swept by his glance. 

" Back to Spain! " cry his men; " Put the vessel about! 

We venture no further through danger and doubt." — 

*' Three days, and I give you a world! " he replied; 

" Bear up, my brave comrades; — three days shall decide." 

He sails, — but no token of land is in sight; 

He sails, — but the day shows no more than the night; — 

On, onward he sails, while in vain o'er the lee 

The lead is plunged down through a fathomless sea. 

The second day's past, and Columbus is sleeping, 

While Mutiny near him its vigil is keeping : 

" Shall he perish? " — "Ay! death! " is the barbarous cry. 

" He must triumph to-morrow, or, perjured, must die! " 

Ungrateful and blind! — shall the world-linking sea. 

He traced for the Future, his sepulchre be? 

Shall that sea, on the morrow, with pitiless waves. 

Fling his corse on that shore which his patient eye craves ? 

The corse of an humble adventurer, then; 

One day later, — Columbus, the first among men! 

But hush! he is dreaming! — A veil on the main, 
At the distant horizon, is parted in twain, 
And now, on his dreaming eye, — rapturous sight! — 
Fresh bursts the New World from the darkness of night! 
vision of glory! how dazzling it seems! 
How glistens the verdure! how sparkle the streams! 
18 



290 orator's manual. 

How blue the far mountains ! how glad the green isles ! 
And the earth and the ocean, how dimpled with smiles! 
"Joy! joy! " cries Columbus, "this region is mine! " 
Ah! not e'en its name, wondrous dreamer, is thine! 

But, lo! his dream changes; — a vision less bright 

Comes to darken and banish that scene of delight. 

The gold-seeking Spaniards, a merciless band, 

Assail the meek natives and ravage the land. 

He sees the fair palace, the temple on fire. 

And the peaceful Cazique 'mid their ashes expire; 

He sees, too, — Oh, saddest! Oh, mournfullest sight! — 

The crucifix gleam in the thick of the fight. 

More terrible far than the merciless steel 

Is the up-lifted cross in the red hand of Zeal! 

Again the dream changes. Columbus looks forth, 
And a bright constellation beholds in the North. 
Tis the herald of empire ! A People appear. 
Impatient of wrong, and unconscious of fear ! 
They level the forest, — they ransack the seas, — 
Each zone finds their canvas unfurled to the breeze. 
" Hold! " Tyranny cries; but their resolute breath 
Sends back the reply, " Independence or death! " 
The ploughshare they turn to a weapon of might, 
And, defying all odds, they go forth to the fight. 

They have conquered! The People, with grateful acclaim, 

Look to Washington's guidance, from Washington's fame; — 

Behold Cincinnatus and Cato combined 

In his patriot heart and republican mind. 

Oh, type of true manhood ! What sceptre or crown 

But fades in the light of thy simple renown? 

And lo ! by the side of the Hero, a Sage, 

In Freedom's behalf, sets his mark on the age; 

Whom Science adoringly hails, while he wrings 

The lightning from heaven, the sceptre from kings! 

At length, o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks; 
"Land! land !" cry the sailors ; "land! land!" — heawakes,- 
He runs, — yes! behold it! — it blesseth his sight, — 
The land! Oh, dear spectacle ! transport! delight! 



-SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 291 

Oh, generous sobs, which he cannot restrain! 

What will Ferdinand say? and the Future? and Spain? 

He will lay this fair land at the foot of the throne, — 

His king will repay all the ills he has known, — 

In exchange for a world what are honors and gains ? 

Or a crown? But how is he rewarded? — with chains! 

225. Moderately Slow Movement. 

85. THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET:—^. G. Gfreene. 

All kinds of force, O., moderately low pitcli. 

O'er a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest ray, 
Where, in his last strong agony, a dying warrior lay, — 
The stem old Baron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er been bent 
By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had spent. 

" They come around me here, and say my days of life are o'er; 
That I shall mount my noble steed and lead my band no more; 
They come, and, to my beard, they dare to tell me now that I, 
Their own liege lord and master born, that I, — ha! ha! — must die. 

"And what is death? I've dared him oft before the Pajmim spear; 
rhink ye he's entered at my gate, — has come to seek me here? 
['ve met him, faced him, scorned him, when the fight was raging hot; 
I'll try his might, I'll brave his power; defy, and fear him not. 

" Ho! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the culverin. 
Bid each retainer arm with speed; call every vassal in; 
Up with my banner on the wall; the banquet board prepare; 
Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there! ' 

An hundred hands were busy then : the banquet forth was spread. 
And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread; 
While from the rich, dark tracery, along the vaulted wall. 
Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, o'er the proud old 
Gothic hall. 

Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed retainers poured, 
On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the 

board ; 
While at its head, within his dark, carved oaken chair of state, 
Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger, with girded falchion, sate. 



292 orator's manual. 

"Fill every beaker up, my men; pour forth the cheering wine; 
There's life and strength in every drop; — thanksgiving to the vine! 
Are ye all there, my vassals true? mine eyes are waxing dim; 
Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim. 

*' Ye're there, but yet I see you not; draw forth each trusty sword, 
And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board; — 
I hear it faintly; — louder yet! What clogs my heavy breath? 
Up, all ! and shout for Rudiger, ' Defiance unto death ! ' " 

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a deafening cry, 
That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high. 
"Ho! cravens! do ye fear him? Slaves, traitors! have ye flown? 
Ho! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone? 

" But I defy him; let him come! " Down rang the massy cup. 
While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half-way up; 
And, with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his head, 
There, in bis dark, carved, oaken chair, old Rudiger sat, — dead! 



86. HORATIUS AT THE BBIDGE.— Thomas B. Macaulay. 
Idem. ^ 

The Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low, 
And darkly looked he at the wall, and darkly at the foe. 
"Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down; 
And if they once may win the bridge, what hope to save the town? " 

Then out spoke brave Horatius, the Captain of the gate: 
"To every man upon this earth death cometh, soon or late. 
Hew down the bridge. Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may; 
I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe at bay. 

" In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopped by three. 
Now who will stand on either hand, and keep the bridge with me? " 
Then out spake Spurius Lartius,. — a Ramnian proud was he, — 
" Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee." 

And out spake strong Herminius, — of Titian blood was he, — 
" I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee." 
"Horatius," quoth the Consul, " as thou sayest, so let it be." 
And straight against that great array, forth went the dauntless 
Three, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLA:\rATIO:N". 293 

Soon all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see 
On the earth the bloody corpses, in the path the dauntless Three. 
And from the ghastly entrance, where those bold Romans stood, 
The bravest shrank like boys who rouse an old bear in the wood. 

But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied, 
And now the bridge hangs tottering above the boihng tide. 
" Come back, come back, Horatius! " loud cried the Fathers all; 
" Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere the ruin fall! " 

Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back; 

And, as they passed, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack; 

But when they turned their faces, and on the further shore 

Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed once more. 

But, with a crash Like thunder, fell every loosened beam, 
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck lay right athwart the stream; 
And a long shout of triumph rose from the waUs of Rome, 
As to the highest turret-tops was splashed the yeUow foam. 

And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein. 

The furious river struggled hard, and tossed his tawny mane, 

And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free, 

And battlement, and plank, and pier, whirled headlong to the sea. 

Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind; 
Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind, 
" Down with him! " cried false Sextus, with a smile on his pale face, 
" Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, " now yield thee to our grace." 

Round turned he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see ; 
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus naught spake he; 
But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home, 
And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of Rome. 

' ' Tiber ! father Tiber ! to whom the Romans pray, 
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day! " 
So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed the good sword by his side, 
And, with his harness on his back, plunged headlong in the tide. 

No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank; 

But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, stood gazing where he sank; 

And when above the surges they saw his crest appear, 

Rome shouted, and e'en Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer. 



294 orator's mantal. 

But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain : 
And fast his blood was flowing; and he was sore in pain, 
And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows : 
And oft they thought him linking, — but still again he rose. 

Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case, 
Struggle through.such a raging flood safe to the landmg-place: 
But his limbs were borne up bravely by the brave heart within, 
And our good father Tiber bare bravely up his chin. 

'* Curse on him! " quoth false Sextus; "will not the villain drown? 
But for this stay, ere close of day we should have sacked the town! " 
" Heaven help him! " quoth Lars Porsena, " and bring him safe to 

shore; 
For such a gallant feat of arms was never seen before." 

And now he feels the bottom; — now on dry earth he stands; 
Now round him throng the Fathers to press his gory hands. 
And now, with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping loud, 
He enters through the River Gate, borne by the joyous crowd. 

87. THE SAILOR-BOY'S BREAM.— Bimond. 
EfEueive O., poetic monotone. 

In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay, 

His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; 

But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away. 
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. 

He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, 
And pleasures that waited on life's merry mom; 

While memory stood side- wise, half covered with flowers, 
And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch. 

And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall. 

All trembling with transport he raises the latch, 
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight, — 

His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; 

And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite 

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. 



SELECTIONS FOE DECLAMATIOi^". 295 

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, 

Joy quickens his pulse — all his hardships seem o'er; 

And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest — 
" God! thou hast blest me, — I ask for no more." 

Ah ! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye ? 

Ah! what is that sound that now 'larums his ear? 
'Tis the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky! 

'Tis the crashing of thunder, the groan of the sphere! 

He springs from his hammock — he flies to the deck; 

Amazement confronts him with images dire; — 
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck, 

The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire I 

Like mountains the billows tumultuously swell; 

In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save; — 
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell. 

And the death-angel flaps his dark wings o'er the wave. 

sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight! 

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss; — 
Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright, 

Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss. 

sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again 

Shall love, home or kindred thy wishes repay; 

Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main 
Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, 
Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; 

But the white foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be, 
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge. 

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid, 
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; 

Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, 
And every part suit to thy mansion below. 

Days, months, years and ages shall circle away, 
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; 

Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye — 
sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul! 



296 oratok's manual. 

88. THE RELIEF OF LJJCKNOW. -Bobert LoweU. 
P., O. and A., all kinds of force, 

Med. Oh, that last day in Lucknow fort! 

We knew that it was the last: 
Low. That the enemy's lines crept surely on, 

And the end was coming* fast. 

To yield to that foe was worse than death, 

And the men and we all worked on; 
It was one day more of smoke and roar, 

And then it would all be done. 

Med. There was one of us, a corporal's wife, 
A fair, young, gentle thing, 
Wasted with fever in the siege, 
And her mind was wandering. 

She lay on the ground in her Scottish plaid, 
And I took her head on my knee : 
High. "When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she said, 
"Oh! then please waken me." 

Med. She slept like a child on her father's floor 
In the flecking of woodbine-shade. 
When the house-dog sprawls by the open door, 
And the mother's wheel is staid. 

Low. It was smoke and roar and powder-stench, 

And hopeless waiting for death; 
Med. And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child, 

Seemed scarce to draw her breath. 

I sank to sleep; and I had my dream 
Of an English village-lane 
High. And wall and garden; — but one wild scream 
Low. Brought me back to the roar again. 

Med. There Jessie Brown stood listening. 

Till a sudden gladness broke 
A. AH over her face, and she caught my hand 

And drew me near, as she spoke ; 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 297 

High. "The Hielanders! Oh! dinna ye hear 
The slogan far awa? 
The McGregor's? Oh! I ken it weel; 
It's the grandest o' them a' ! 

"God bless the bonny Hielanders! 

We're saved! we're saved! " she cried; 
M6d.O. And fell on her knees, and thanks to God 
Flowed forth like a full flood-tide 

A. Along the battery-line her cry 
Had fallen among the men, 
And they started back; — they were there to die; 
But was life so near them then? 

They listened for life : the rattling fire 
Far off, and the far-off roar 
Law 0. Were all; and the colonel shook his head, 

And they turned to their guns once more. 

High. But Jessie said, "The slogan's done; 
But winna ye hear it noo? 
The Campbells are comin ! It's nae a dream; 
Our succors hae broken through! " 

Low. We heard the roar and the rattle afar, 
Med. But the pipes we could not hear; 

Low. So the men plied their work of hopeless war, 
And knew that the end was near. 

Med. It was not long ere it made its way, — 
A shrilling, ceaseless sound: 
It was no noise from the strife afar, 
Or the sappers under ground. 

High. It ivas the pipes of the Highlanders ! 

And now they played Auld Lang Syne; 
A. It came to our men like the voice of God, 

And they shouted along the line. 

And they wept, and shook one another's hands, 

And the women sobbed in a crowd; 
And every one knelt down where he stood 

And we all thanked God aloud. 



298 okator's manual. 

Med. 0. That happy time, when we welcomed them, 
Our men put Jessie first; 
And the general gave her his hand, and cheers 
Like a storm from the soldiers burst. 

And the pipers' ribbons and tartans streamed, 

Marching- round and round our line; 
And our joyful cheers were broken with tears 

As the pipers played Auld Lang Syne. 

89. CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.— ^(/Ve(? Tennysc^i 
Explosive O., medium pitch, poetic monotone. 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward, 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 
"Charge," was the captain's cry; 
Theirs not to reason why. 
Theirs not to make reply. 
Theirs but to do and die : 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them. 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them, 

Volley'd and thunder'd; 
Storm 'd at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well ; 
Into the jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of Hell, 

Rode the six hundred. 

Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
Flash'd as they turn'd in air, 
Sabring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wonder'd: 
Plunged in the battery- smoke, 
Right thro' the line they broke; 
Cossack and Russian 
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 299 

Shatter'd and sunder'd. 
Then they rode back, but not, 
Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them 

Volley'd and thunder'd; 
Storm 'd at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell. 
They that had fought so well 
Came through the jaws of Death 
Back from the mouth of Hell, 
All that was left of them, 

Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade ? 
Oh, the wild charge they made\ 

All the world wonder'd. 
Honor the charge they made' 
Honor the Light Brigade, 

Noble six hundred ! 



90. THE BUGLE SO'NG.— Alfred Tennyson. 

EfEusive P. and O., medium and high pitch. 

The splendor falls on castle walls 

And snowy summits old in story; 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

Oh, hark! Oh, hear! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going! 
Oh, sweet and far, from cliff and scar, 
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 



Oh, love, they die in yon rich sky. 
They faint on hill or field or river; 



300 oratoe's mai^ual. 

Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

91. THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SO'UL.— Alexander Pope. 

Explosive O. 

Vital spark of heavenly flame. 
Quit, Oh, quit this mortal frame! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying. 
Oh, the pain, the bliss, of dying! 
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life! 

Hark! they whisper; angels say 
Sister Spirit, come away; 
What is this absorbs me quite, — 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight. 
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? 
Tell me, soul ! can this be death ? 

(A 0) The world recedes, — it disappears! 
Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears 
With sounds seraphic ring. 
Lend, lend your wings! I mount, I fly! 
Grave ! where is thy victory ? 
Death! where is thy sting? 

92. THE BURIAL OF MOBES.— Mrs. C. F. Alexander. 

Idem, low pitch. 

By Nebo's lonely mountain, on this side Jordan's wave, 
In a vale in the land of Moab, there lies a lonely grave; 
But no man dug that sepulchre, and no man saw it e'er, 
For the angels of God upturned the sod, and laid the dead man there, 

That was the grandest funeral that ever passed on earth; 

But no man heard the tramping, or saw the train go forth; 

Noiselessly as the daylight comes when the night is done, 

And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek grows into the great sun,— 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 301 

Noiselessly as the spring-time her crown of verdure weaves, 
And all the trees on all the hills open their thousand leaves, — 
So, without sound of music, or voice of them that wept. 
Silently down from the mountain crown the great procession swept. 

Lo! when the warrior dieth, his comrades in the war. 

With arms reversed, and muffled drum, follow the funeral car. 

They show the banners taken, they tell his battles won. 

And after him lead his masterless steed, while peals the minute-gun. 

Amid the noblest of the land men lay the sage to rest. 
And give the bard an honored place with costly marble dressed. 
In the great minster transept, where lights like glories fall, 
And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings, along the emblaz- 
oned wall. 

This was the bravest warrior that ever buckled sword; 

This the most gifted poet that ever breathed a word; 

And never earth's philosopher traced, with his golden pen, 

On the deathless page, truths half so sage, as he wrote down for men. 

And had he not high honor, the hill-side for his pall; 

To lie in state while angels wait with stars for tapers tall; 

And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes, over his bier to wave; 

And God's own hand, in that lonely land, to lay him in the grave? 

Oh, lonely tomb in Moab's land. Oh, dark Beth-peor's hill, 
Speak to these curious hearts of ours, and teach them to be still. 
God hath his mysteries of Grace — ways that we cannot tell ; 
He hides them deep, like the secret sleep of him he loved so well. 

226. Slow Movement: Descriptions of Natural Scenery. 

Natural and Effusive P. and O., passing often, especially in the latter por- 
tions of the extracts, into Expulsive 0. 

93. THE SKY.— John EusUn. 
Medium pitch. 

Not I long I ag6 | I was slowly || descending || the car- 
riage road II after you leave | Albano. It had been wild] 
weather | when I left | Eome, I| and all | across | the Cam- 
pagna || the clouds | were sweeping | in sulphurous | bltie, | 
with a clap of thtinder | or two, | and breaking | gleams j of 



302 oeator's makual. 

sun I along the Claudian | aqueduct, | lighting up | its 
arches || like the bridge | of chaos. But, as I climbed || the 
long II slope il of the Alban || mount, |1 the storm | swept | 
finally | to the north, I| and the noble | outline || of the 
domes || of Albano || and the graceful | darkness | of its || 
ilex grove | rose | against | pure H streaks | of alternate || 
blue II and amber, | the upper | sky | gradually | flushing 
through I the last | fragments | of rain-cloud, | in deep | 
palpitating | azure, | half | ether | and half [ dew. The 
noon-day | sun | came | slanting | down | the rocky | 
slopes I of La Ricca, || and its masses | of entangled | and 
tall I foliage, | whose autumnal | tints | were mixed | with 
the wet I verdure | of a thousand | evergreens, | were 
penetrated with it | as with rain. I cannot call it color, it 
was conflagration. Purple, | and crimson | and scarlet, | 
like the eiirtains | of God's | tabernacle, | the rejoicing | 
trees | sank | into the valley | in showers | of light, | 
every | separate | leaf | quivering | with buoyant | and 
burning | life ; | each, | as it turned | to reflect | or to trans- 
mit I the siinbeam, | first || a torch, || and then |i an emerald. 
Are not all natural things, it may be asked, as lovely 
near as far away? By no means. Look at the clouds and 
watch the delicate sculpture of their alabaster sides, and 
the rounded lustre of their magnificent rolling. They are 
meant to be beheld far away: they were shaped for their 
place high above your head: approach them and they fuse 
into vague mists, or whirl away in fierce fragments of 
thunderous vapor. Look at the crest of the Alp from the 
far-away plains over which its light is cast, whence human 
souls have communed with it by their myriads. It was built 
for its place in the far-off sky: approach it, and as the 
sound of the voice of man dies away about its foundations, 
and the tide of human life is met at last by the eternal 
" Here shall thy waves be stayed," the glory of its aspect 
fades into blanched fearfulness; its purple walls are rent 



SELECTION'S FOR DECLAMATION". 308 

into grisly rocks, its silver fret-work saddened into wasting 
snow; the stormbrands of ages are on its breast, the ashes 
of its own ruin lie solemnly on its white raiment. 

If you desire to perceive the great harmonies of the 
form of a rocky mountain, you must not ascend upon its 
sides. All there is disorder and accident, or seems so. Re- 
tire from it, and as your eye commands it more and more, 
you see the ruined mountain world with a wider glance; 
behold! dim sympathies begin to busy themselves in the 
disjointed mass: line binds itself into stealthy fellowship with 
line: group by group the helpless fragments gather them- 
selves into ordered companies: new captains of hosts, and 
masses of battalions, become visible one by one; and far- 
away answers of foot to foot and bone to bone, until the 
powerless is seen risen up with girded loins, and not one 
piece of all the unregarded heap can now be spared from 
the mystic whole. 

94. AVALANCHES OF JUNGFRAU ALP.— G^. B. CMever. 
Idem. 

Suddenly an enormous mass of snow and ice, in itself a 
mountain, seems to move; it breaks from the toppling out- 
most mountain ridge of snow, where it is hundreds of feet 
in depth, and in its first fall of perhaps two thousand feet 
is broken into millions of fragments. As you first see the 
flash of distant artillery by night, then hear the roar, so 
here you may see the white flashing mass majestically bow- 
ing, then hear the astounding din. A cloud of dusty, dry 
snow rises into the air from the concussion, forming a 
white volume of fleecy smoke, or misty light, from the 
bosom of which thunders forth the icy torrent in its second 
prodigious fall over the rocky battlements. The eye follows 
it delighted, as it ploughs through the path which preced- 
ing avalanches have worn, till it comes to the brink of a 
vast ridgft of bare rock, perhaps more than two thousand 



304 orator's maitual. 

feet iDerpendicular; then pours the whole cataract over 
the gulf, with a still louder roar of echoing thunder, to 
which nothing but the noise of Niagara in its sublimity is 
comparable. 

Another fall of still greater depth ensues, over a second 
similar castellated ridge or reef in the surface of the mount- 
ain, with an awful, majestic slowness, and a tremendous 
crash in its concussion, awakening again the reverberating 
peals of thunder. Then the torrent roars on to another 
smaller fall, till at length it reaches a mighty groove of 
snow and ice. Here its progress is slower; and last of all 
you listen to the roar of the falling fragments, as they 
drop out of sight, with a dead weight, into the bottom of 
the gulf, to rest there forever. 

Figure to yourself a cataract like that of Niagara, 
poured in foaming grandeur, not merely over one great 
precipice of two hundred feet, but over the successive ridgy 
precipices of two or three thousand, in the face of a mount- 
ain eleven thousand feet high, and tumbling, crashing, 
thundering down with a continuous din of far greater sub- 
limity than the sound of the grandest cataract. The roar 
of the falling mass begins to be heard the moment it is 
loosened from the mountain; it pours on with the sound of 
a vast body of rushing water; then comes the first great 
concussion, a booming crash of thunders, breaking on the 
still air in mid-heaven; your breath is suspended, and you 
listen and look; the mighty glittering mass shoots head- 
long over the main precipice, and the fall is so great that 
it produces to the eye that impression of dread majestic 
slowness of which I have spoken, though it is doubtless 
more rapid than Niagara. But if you should see the cata- 
ract of Niagara itself coming down five thousand feet above 
you in the air, there would be the same impression. The 
image remains in the mind, and can never fade from it; 
it is as if you had seen an alabaster cataract from heaven. 



SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATION". 305 

The sound is far more sublime than that of Niagara, be- 
cause of the preceding stillness in those Alj)ine solitudes. 
In the midst of such silence and solemnit}^ from out the 
bosom of those glorious, glittering forms of nature, comes 
that rushing, crashing, thunder-burst of sound ! If it were 
not that your soul, through the eye, is as filled and fixed 
with the sublimity of the vision as, through the sense of 
hearing, with that of the audible report, methinks you 
would wish to bury your face in your hands, and fall pros- 
trate, as at the voice of the Eternal. 

95. THE FIRST VIEW OF THE HEAVENS. -(?. M. Mitchel. 

Often have I swept backward, in imagination, six thou- 
sand years, and stood beside our great ancestor, as he gazed 
for the first time upon the going down of the sun. What 
strange sensations must have swept through his bewildered 
mind, as he watched the last departing ray of the sinking 
orb, unconscious whether he should ever behold its return. 

Wrapped in a maze of thought, strange and startling, 
he suffers his eye to linger long about the point at which 
the sun had slowly faded from view. A mysterious dark- 
ness creeps over the face of Nature; the beautiful scenes of 
earth are slowly fading, one by one, from his dimmed vision. 

A gloom deeper than that which covers earth steals 
across the mind of earth's solitary inhabitant. He raises 
his inquiring gaze toward heaven; and lb! a silver crescent 
of light, clear and beautiful, hanging in the western sky, 
meets his astonished gaze. The young moon charms his 
untutored vision, and leads him upward to her bright at- 
tendants, which are now stealing, one by one, from out the 
deep blue sky. The solitary gazer bows, wonders, and 
adores. 

The hours glide by; the silver moon is gone; the stars 
are rising, slowly ascending the heights of heaven, and sol- 
13* 



306 orator's manual. 

emnly sweeping downward in the stillness of the night. A 
faint streak of rosy light is seen in the east; it brightens; 
the stars fade; the planets are extinguished; the eye is 
fixed in mute astonishment on the growing sjDlendor, till 
the first rays of the returning sun dart their radiance on 
the young earth and its solitary inhabitant. 

The curiosity excited on this first solemn night, the con- 
sciousness that in the heavens God had declared his glory, 
the eager desire to comprehend the mysteries that dwell in 
their bright orbs, have clung, through the long lapse of six 
thousand years, to the descendants of him who first watched 
and wondered. In this boundless field of investigation, hu- 
man genius has won its most signal victories. 

Generation after generation has rolled away, age after 
age has swept silently by; but each has swelled, by its con- 
tributions, the stream of discovery. Mysterious movements 
have been unravelled; mighty laws have been revealed; 
ponderous orbs have been weighed; one barrier after an- 
other has given way to the force of intellect; until the 
mind, majestic in its strength, has mounted, step by step, 
up the rocky height of its self-built pyramid, from whose 
star-crowned summit it looks out upon the grandeur of the 
universe self-clothed with the prescience of a God. 

96. CHAM.O'U'NY. —Samuel T. Coleridge. 
Moderately low pitch.. 
Hast 1 thou a charm | to stay | the morning | star | 
In his I steep | com-se? — so long || he seems | to pause | 
On thy I bald, | awful | front, || Oh, | sovereign | Blanc; 
The Arv6 | and Arveiron | at thy base | 
Rave II ceaselessly; || but thou, || most | awful | form, | 
Risest I from forth | thy silent | sea | of pines | 
How I silently! Around thee | and above, | 
Dfeep I is the air, | and dark; substantial | black, \ 
An febon mass: || methinks | thou pi^rcest it 1 
As with a w^dge ! | But, when I look | again, | 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 307 

It is thine own | calm | home, | thy crystal | shrine, | 
Thy habitation | from eternity. | 

dread | and silent | mount! | I gazed | upon thee | 
Till thou, I still I present | to the bodily | sense, || 

Didst vanish | from my thought: | entranced | in prayer, ( 

1 worshiped | the Invisible | alone. 

Yet, I Like some sweet, | beguiling | melody, | 

So I sweet | we know not | we are listening to it, 

Thou, I the meanwhile, | wast blending with | my thought,— 

Yea, I with my life, | and life's | own | secret joy — 

Till the dilating | soul, | enrapt, | transfused, | 

Into the mighty | vision | passing || — there, | 

As in her natural | form, || swelled || vast 1 1 to heaven. 

Aw^ke, I my soul ! | Not only passive | praise ] 
Thou owest; not alone [ these swelling [ tears. 
Mute I thanks, | and silent | Ecstasy. | Awake, 
V6ice of sweet | song! Awake, | my h^art, | awake, 
Green | vales | and icy cliffs, all || join II my hymn. 

Thou, first | and chief, | sole | sovereign | of the v^le! 
Oh, I struggling | with the darkness | all | the night, | 
And visited | all | night | by troops | of stars. 
Or when they climb | the sky, | or when they sink || — 
Companion 1 1 of the morning | star | at dawn, | 
Thyself il earth's || rosy | star, || and | of the dawn | 
Co- II herald, || wake! | Oh, wake! Ii and utter praise! || 
Who II sank | thy sunless | pillars | deep | in ^arth? 
Who I filled I thy countenance | with rosy || light? 
Who I made thee | parent | of perpetual | streams ? 

And y6u, | ye five | wild | torrents, || fiercely || glSd! 

Who called | you 1 1 forth | from night | and utter | death, | 

From dark ] and icy | caverns | called you forth, || 

Down I those 1 precipitous, | black ji and jagged rocks, 

Forever | shattered, || and the same | forever? | 

Who gave you | your | invulnerable | life. 

Your strength, | your sp^ed, | your fury, | and your j6y, | 

Unceasing | thunder, | and eternal | foam? 

And who | commanded, | — and the silence 1 came,— 

"Here I let the billows | stiffen, | and have r^st"? 



308 orator's manual. 

Ye ice-falls! | ye | that from the mountain's ] brow 

Adown 1 enormous | ravines | slope | amain, — 

Torrents, | methinks, | that heard a mighty | voice, | 

And stopped | at once | amid | their maddest | plunge! 

Motionless | torrents! silent | cataracts! — | 

Who made you j glorious | as the gates ] of heaven ] 

Beneath the keen | full | moon ? Who bade the sim 

Clothe you | vt^ith rainbows ? Who | with living | flowers | 

Of loveliest | blue [ spread [ garlands | at your ffeet? — 

" God! " j let the torrents, | like a shout | of nations, | 

Answer: | and let the ice-plains ] ^cho, | "God! " 

"God!" I sing, | ye m&adow- streams, ] with gladsome | voice, 

Ye pine-groves, | with your soft ] and soul-like ] sounds! |! 

And th^y, too, | have a voice, [ yon | piles j of snow, 

And, in th^ir | perilous [ fall, 1 shall thunder, | " G5d! " 

Ye Ragles, | playmates ] of the mountain- ] storm! 

Ye lightnings, | the dread | arrows | of the clouds ! 

Ye signs | and wonders ] of the Elements ! 

Utter forth | " God! " | and fill | the hills 1 with praise! 

Thou, too, hoar mount, with thy sky-pointing peaks, 
Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard. 
Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene, 
Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast — 
Thou, too, again, stupendous mountain ! thou 
That — as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 
In adoration, upward from thy base 
Slow traveling with dim eyes suffused with tears — 
Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, 
To rise before me — rise. Oh, ever rise! 
Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth! 
Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills. 
Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, 
Great hierarch, tell thou the silent sky. 
And tell the stars, and tell you rising sun, 
"Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God!" 

97. THANATOPSIS.— m^^tam C. Bryant. 
Idem. 

To him who, in the love of Nature, holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language; for his gayer hours 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 309 

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 

And eloquence of beauty; and she glides 

Into his darker musings, with a mild 

And gentle sympathy, that steals away 

Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts 

Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 

Over thy spirit, and sad images 

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 

Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart, — 

Go forth under the open sky, and list 

To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — 

Comes a still voice — Yet a few days, and thee 

The all-beholding sun shall see no more 

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground 

Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim 

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; 

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 

Thine individual being, shalt thou go 

To mix forever with the elements; 

To be a brother to the insensible rock 

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould 

Yet not to thy eternal resting-place 

Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish 

Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 

With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings. 

The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, 

Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past. 

All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills. 

Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales 

Stretching in pensive quietness between; 

The venerable woods; rivers, that move 

In majesty, and the complaining brooks. 

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, 

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 

Are but the solemn decorations all 



310 OKATOR'S MAl^-UAL. 

Of the great tomb of man! The golden sun, 

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 

Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 

Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 

The globe are but a handful to the tribes 

That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 

Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, 

Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 

Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound 

Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there! 

And millions in those solitudes, since first 

The flight of years began, have laid them down 

In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone ! 

So shalt thou rest; and what if thou shalt fall 

Unnoticed by the living, and no friend 

Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe 

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 

When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 

Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase 

His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave 

Their mirth and their employments, and shall come 

And make their bed with thee. As the long train 

Of ages glide away, the sons of men — 

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 

In the full strength of years, matron, and maid, 

The bowed with age, the infant in the smiles 

And beauty of its innocent age cut off — 

Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, 

By those who in their turn shall follow them. 

So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death. 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night. 
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 



SELECTIOJS^S FOR DECLAMATIOiN'. 311 



HUMOROUS. 

227. Humor requires a light and airy but greatly diversified 
movement; tones both discrete (laughing) and concrete (§§ 86, 87); a 
melody (§ 92 a) often passing suddenly /row the lowest to the highest 
pitch and back again; a frequent use of the circumflex, of double 
reference or meaning (§ 74), and all kinds of stress and quality, 

98. HOBBIES.— r. DeWitt Talmage. 

We all ride something. It is folly to expect us always 
to be walking. The cheapest thing to ride is a hobby; it 
eats no oats ; it demands no groom ; it breaks no traces ; it 
requires no shoeing. Moreover, it is safest; the boisterous 
outbreak of the children's fun does not startle it; three 
babies astride it at once do not make it skittish. If, per- 
chance, on some brisk morning it throws its rider, it will 
stand still till he climbs the saddle. For eight years we 
have had one tramping the nursery, and yet no accident; 
though, meanwhile, his eye has been knocked out and his 
tail dislocated. 

When we get old enough to leave the nursery we jump 
astride some philosophic, metaphysical, literary, political or 
theological hobby. Parson Brownlow's hobby was the hang- 
ing of rebels; John C. Calhoun's, South Carolina; Daniel 
Webster's, the constitution; Wheeler's, the sewing machine; 
Dr. WindshijD's, gymnastics. 

Goodyear's hobby is made out of India-rubber; Peter 
Cooper's, out of glue; Townsend's, out of sarsaparilla bot- 
tles ; De Witt Clinton rode his up the ditch of the Erie 
canal; Cyrus Field, under the sea; John P. Jackson, down 
the railroad from Am boy to Camden; indeed, the men of 
mark and the men of worth have all had their hobby, great 
or small. 

We have no objections to hobbies; but we contend that 
there are times and places when and where they should not 



312 orator's man^ual. 

be ridden. Let your hobby rest. If it will not otherwise 
stop, tie it for a few days to the whitewashed stump of 
modern conservatism. Do not hurry things too much. If 
this world should be saved next week it would spoil some of 
our professions. Do not let us do up things too quick. This 
world is too big a ship for us to guide. I know, from the 
way she swings from larboard to starboard, that there is a 
strong Hand at the helm. 

Be patient. God's clock strikes but once or twice in a 
thousand years; but the wheels all the while keep turning. 
Over the caravansera of Bethlehem, with silver tongue, it 
struck One. Over the University of Erfurt, Luther heard 
it strike Nine. In the rockings of the present century it 
has sounded — Eleven. Thank God! It will strike — 
Twelve. 

99. THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY. 

To marry, — or riot to marry, — that is the question! 

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 

The sullen silence of these cobweb rooms, 

Or seek in festive balls some cheerful dame, 

And by uniting, end it. To live alone, — 

No more; — and, by marrying, say we end 

The heart-ache, and those throes and make-shifts 

Bachelors are heirs to; 'tis a consummation 

Devoutly to be wished ! 

To marry; — to Hve in peace; — 
Perchance in war; — ay, there's the rub; 
For in the marriage state what ills may come, 
When we ha^e shuffled off our liberty. 
Must give us pause. There's the respect 
That makes us dread the bonds of wedlock; 
For who could bear the noise of scolding wives. 
The fits of spleen, th' extravagance of dress, 
The thirst for plays, for concerts, and for balls, 
The insolence of servants, and the spurns 
That patient husbands from their consorts take, 



SELECTIONS FOR D KCLA MATIOX. 313 

When he himself might his quietus gain 
By living single ? 

Who would wish to bear 
The jeering name of Bachelor, 
But that the dread of something after marriage 
(Ah, that vast expenditure of income, 
The tongue can scarcely tell) puzzles the will, 
And makes us rather choose the single life 
Than go to gaol for debts we know not of! 
Economy thus makes Bachelors of us still; 
And thus our melancholy resolution 
Is still increased upon more serious thought. 



100. MISS M ALONE Y ON THE CHINESE QUESTION. 
Scribner's Monthly. 

Well, the ways and trials I had v^id that Chineser I 
couldn't be tellin'. Not a blissed thing cud I do, but he'd 
be lookin' on wid his eyes cocked up'ard like two poomp- 
handles, an' he widdout a speck or smitcb o' whishkers on 
him, an' his finger nails full a yard long. But it's dyin' 
you'd be to see the missus a-larnin' him, an' he grinnin' an' 
waggin' his pig-tail (which was pieced out long wid some 
black shtoof, the haythin chate!) and gettin' into her ways 
wonderful quick, I don't deny, imitatin' that sharp, you'd 
be shurprised, an' ketchin' an' copyin' things the best of us 
will do a-hurried wid work, yet don't want comin' to the 
knowledge of the family — bad luck to him! 

Is it ate wid him? Arrah, an' would I be sittin' wid a 
haythin, an' he a-atin' wid drum-sticks — yes, an' atin' dogs 
an' cats unknownst to me, I warrant you, which it is the 
custom of them Chinesers, till the thought made me that 
sick I could die. An' didn't the crayture proffer to help me 
a wake ago come Toosday, an' me a-foldin' down me clane 
clothes for ironin', an' fill his haythin mouth wid water, an' 
afore I could hinder squirrit it through his teeth stret over 
the best linen table-cloth, and fold it up tight, as innercent 
14 



314 oratok's mantal. 

now as a baby, the dirrity baste ! But the worrest of all was 
the cop^dn' he'd be doin' till ye'd be dishtracted. It's yerself 
knows the tinder feet that's on me since iver I've bin in this 
connthry. Well, owin' to that I fell into a way o' slippin' 
me shoes off when I'd be settin' down to pale the praities or 
the likes o' that; an', do ye mind! that haythin would do 
the same thing after me, whiniver the missus set him to 
parin' apples or tomaterses. The saints in heaven couldn't 
have made him belave he cud kape the shoes on him when 
he'd be paylin' anything. 

Did I lave fur that ? Faix an' I didn't. Didn't he get 
me into throuble wid me missus, the haythin? You're 
aware yersel' how the boondles comin' in from the grocery 
often contains more'n'll go into anything dacently. So, for 
that matter, I'd now and then take out a sup o' sugar, or 
flour, or tay, an' wrap it in paper an' put it in me bit of a 
box tucked under the ironin' blankit, the how it cuddent be 
bodderin' any one. Well, what shud it be, but this blessed 
Sathurday morn, the missus was a-spakin' pleasant an' re- 
spec'ful wid me in me kitchen, when the grocer-boy comes 
in an' stands fornenst her wid his boondles, an' she motions 
like to Fing Wing (which I never would call him by that 
name nor any other, but just haythin), she motions to him, 
she does, for to take the boondles an' empty out the sugar, 
an' what not, where they belongs. If you'll belave me, what 
did that blatherin' Chineser do but take out a sup o' sugar, 
an' a handful o' tay, an' a bit o' chase, right afore the missus, 
wrap them into bits o' paper, an' I spacheless wid shurprise, 
an' he the next minute up wid the ironin' blankit and pull- 
in' out me box, wid a show o' bein' sly, to put them in. Och, 
the Lord forgive me, but I clutched it, an' the missus sayin' 
" Oh, Kitty! " in a way that 'ud cruddle your blood. "He's 
a haythin nager," says I. " I've found you out," says she. 
" I'll arrist him," says I. " It's you ought to be arristed," 
says she. " You won't," says I. "I will," says she — an' so 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 315 

it went till she give me such sass as I cuddent take from no 
lady — an' I give her warnin' an' left that instant, an' she 
a-pointin' to the doore. 

101. BROTHER WATKINS.— ^o^in B. Gmgh. 

My beloved brethering, before I take my text I must 
tell you about my parting with my old congregation. On 
the morning of last Sabbath I went into the meeting-house 
to preach my farewell discourse. Just in front of me sot 
the old fathers and mothers in Israel; the tears coursed 
down their furrowed cheeks; their tottering forms and 
quivering lips breathed out a sad — /are ije tvell, brother 
Watkins — ah! Behind them sot the middle-aged men and 
matrons ; health and vigor beamed from every countenance, 
and as they looked up I could see in their dreamy eyes — 
fare ye ivell, brother Watkins — ah! Behind them sot the 
boys and girls that I had baptized and gathered into the 
Sabbath-school. Many times had they been rude and bois- 
terous, but now their merry laugh was hushed, and in the 
silence I could hear — fat'e ye well, brother Watkins — ah! 
Around, on the back seats, and in the aisles, stood and sot 
the colored brethering, with their black faces and honest 
hearts, and as I looked upon them I could see a — fare ye 
well, brother Watkins — ah! When I had finished my dis- 
course and shaken hands with the brethering — ah ! I passed 
out to take a last look at the old church — ah! the broken 
steps, the flopping blinds, and moss-covered roof, suggested 
only — fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah! I mounted my 
old gray mare, with my earthly possessions in my saddle- 
bags, and as I passed down the street the servant-girls stood 
in the doors, and with their brooms waved me a — fare ye 
well, brother Watkins — ah! As I passed out of the village 
the low wind blew softly through the waving branches of 
the trees, and moaned — fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah! 



316 orator's man'ual. 

I came down to the creek, and as the old mare stopped to 
drink I could hear the water rippling over the pebbles a — 
fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah! And even the little 
fishes, as their bright fins glistened in the sunlight, I 
thought, gathered around to say, as best they could — fare 
ye well, brother Watkins — ah! I was slowly passing up 
the hill, meditating upon the sad vicissitudes and mutations 
of life, when suddenly out bounded a big hog from a 
fence-corner, with aboo! aboo! and I came to the ground 
with my saddle-bag3 by my side. As I lay in the dust of 
the road my old gray mare ran up the hill, and as she 
turned the top she v/aved her tail back at me, seemingly to 
say — fare ye weV, brother Watkins — ah! I tell you, my 
brethering, it is affecting times to part with a congregation 
you have been with for over thirty years — ah! 

102. A CATASTROPHE. 

On a pine woodshed, in an alley dark, where scattered 
moonbeams, shifting through a row of tottering chimneys 
and awnings torn and drooping, fell, strode back and forth, 
with stiff and tense-drawn muscles and peculiar tread, a cat. 
His name was Norval; on yonder neighboring sheds his 
father caught the rats that came in squads from the streets 
beyond Dupont, in search of food and strange adventure. 
Grim war he courted, and his twisted tail and spine up- 
heaving in fantastic curves, and claws distended, and ears 
flatly pressed against a head thrown back defiantly, told of 
impending strife. With eyes a-gleam and screeching blasts 
of war, and steps as silent as the falling dew, young Norval 
crept along the splintered edge, and gazed a moment 
through the darkness down, with tail awag triumphantly. 
Then with an imprecation and a growl — perhaps an oath 
in direst vengeance hissed — he started back, and crooking 
his body like a letter S, or like a U inverted (£[), stood in 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 317 

fierce expectancy. Twas well. With eyeballs glaring and 
ears aslant, and open mouth, in which two rows of fangs 
stood forth in sharp and dread conformity, slap up a post 
from out the dark below, a head appeared. A dreadful toc- 
sin of determined strife young Norval uttered, then, with a 
face unblanched and mustache standing straight before his 
nose, and tail flung wildly to the passing breeze, stepped 
back in cautious invitation to the foe. Approaching each 
other, with preparations dire, each cat surveyed the vantage 
of the field. Around they walked, tails uplifted and backs 
high in air, while from their mouths, in accents hissing 
with consuming rage, dropped brief but awful sentences of 
hate. Twice around they went in circle, each eye upon the 
foe intently bent, then sideways moving, — as is wont with 
cats, — gave one long-drawn, terrific^ savage yeoiv, and 
buckled in. 

103. BUZFUZ vEBSus PICKWICK.- C%aWes Dickens. 

You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen of 
the jury, that this is an action for a breach of promise of 
marriage, in which the damages are laid at fifteen hundred 
pounds. The plaintiff, gentlemen, is a widow — yes, gen- 
tlemen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, some time before 
his death, became the father, gentlemen, of a little boy. 
With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed excise- 
man, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the 
retirement and trancjuillity of Goswell street; and here she 
placed in her front parlor window a written placard, bear- 
ing this inscription: "Apartments furnished, for a single 
gentleman. Inquire within." Mrs. Bardell's opinions of 
the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long con- 
templation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. 
She had no fear — she had no distrust — all was confidence 
and reliance. " Mr. Bardell," said the widow, " was a man 



318 OKATOR'S MANUAL. 

of honor, — Mr. Bardell was a man of his word, — Mr. Bar= 
dell was no deceiver, — Mr. Bardell was once a single gen- 
tleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for protection, 
for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation; — in single 
gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me 
of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and 
untried affections; to a single gentleman, then, shall my 
lodgings be let." 

Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among 
the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen), the 
lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her 
first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, 
and put the bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain 
there long ? No. The serpent was on the watch ; the train 
was laid; the mine was preparing; the sapper and miner 
was at work ! Before the bill had been in the parlor win- 
dow three days — three days, gentlemen — a being, erect 
upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a 
man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. 
Bardell's house. He inquired within, he took the lodgings, 
and on the very next day he entered into possession of 
them. This man was Pickwick — Pickwick the defendant. 

Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but 
few attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are 
you, gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of 
revolting heartlessness, and of systematic villainy. I say 
systematic villainy, gentlemen; and when I say systematic 
villainy, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in 
court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more 
decent in him, more becoming, if he had stepped away. Let 
me tell him, further, that a counsel, in the discharge of his 
duty, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put 
down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the 
other will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plain- 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 319 

tiff or be he defendant ; be his name Pickwick, or Xoakes, 
or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson. 

I shall show jou, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick 
continued to reside constantl}^, and without any interrup- 
tion or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show 
you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited 
on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked 
out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, 
darned, aired and prepared it for wear when it came home, 
and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I 
shall show you that on many occasions he gave halfpence, 
and on some occasions even sixpences, to her little boy. I 
shall prove to you that on one occasion, when he returned 
from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her 
marriage; previously, however, taking special care that 
Ihere should be no witness to their solemn contract. And 
I am in a situation to prove to you, on the testimony of 
three of his own friends — most unv/illing witnesses, gen- 
tlemen — most unwilling witnesses — that on that morning 
he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, 
and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments. 

And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters 
have passed between these parties — letters that must be 
viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye — letters that 
were evidently intended, at the time, by Pickwick, to mis- 
lead and delude any third parties into whose hands they 
might fall. Let me read the first: — " Garraway's, twelve 
o'clock. — Dear Mrs. B. : Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, 
Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and 
tomato sauce! Yours, Pickwick! Chops! — gracious heav- 
ens! — and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of 
a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such 
shallow artifices as these? The next has no date w^hatever, 
which is in itself suspicious. " Dear Mrs. B. : I shall not be 



320 orator's maxual. 

at home till to-morrow. Slow coach." And then follows 
this very remarkable expression: — "Don't trouble yourself 
about the warming-pan." The ivarming-pan! Why, gen- 
tlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan? 
Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate 
herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the 
case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire — a mere substitute 
for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a precon- 
certed system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pick- 
wick with a view to his contemplated desertion ? And what 
does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I 
know it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has 
most unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during 
the whole of this transaction, but whose speed will now be 
very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, 
as he will find to his cost, will very soon be greased by you. 
But enough of this, gentlemen. It is difiicult to smile 
with an aching heart. My client's hopes and prospects are 
ruined; and it is no figure of speech to say that her " occu- 
pation is gone" indeed. The bill is down; but there is no 
tenant. Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass; but 
there is no invitation for them to inquire within or with- 
out. All is gloom and silence in the house; even the voice 
of the child is hushed; his infant sports are disregarded 
when his mother weeps. But Pickwick, gentlemen — Pick- 
wick, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in the 
desert of Goswell street — Pickwick, who has choked up the 
well, and thrown ashes on the sward — Pickwick, who 
comes before you to-day with his heartless tomato sauce and 
warming-pans — Pickwick still rears his head with un- 
blushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin 
he has made! Damages, gentlemen, heavy damages, is the 
only punishment with which you can visit him — the only 
recompense you can award to my client. And for those 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 321 

damages she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, 
a right-feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympa- 
thizing, a contemplative jury of her civilized countrymen. 

104. SPEECH OP M. HECTOR De LONGUEBEAU.— T'. Mosely. 

Milors and gentlemans! You excellent chairman, M. le 
Baron de Mount-Stuart, he have say to me, " Make de toast." 
Den I say to him dat I have no toast to make ; but he nudge 
my elbow ver soft, and say dat dere is von toast dat nobody 
but von Frenchman can make proper; and derefore, wid 
your kind permission, I vill make de toast. " De brevete is 
de sole of de feet," as you great philosophere. Dr. Johnson, 
do say, in dat amusing little vork of his, de Pronouncing 
Dictionaire; and derefore I vill not say ver mooch to de 
point. Ven I vas a boy, about so mooch tall, and used for to 
promenade de streets of Marseilles et of Rouen, vid no feet 
to put onto my shoe, I nevare to have expose dat dis day 
would to have arrive. I vas to begin de vorld as von gargon 
— or vat you call in dis countrie von vataire in a caf6 — 
vere I vork ver hard, vid no habilimens at all to put onto 
myself, and ver little food to eat, excep' von old bleu blouse 
vat vas give to me by de proprietaire, just for to keep my- 
self fit to be showed at; but, tank goodness, tings dey have 
change ver mooch for me since dat time, and I have rose my- 
self, seulement par mon industrie et perseverance. (Loud 
cheers.) Ah! mes amis! ven I hear to myself de flowing 
speech, de oration magnifique, of you Lor' Maire, Monsieur 
Gobbledown, I feel dat it is von great privilege for von 
etranger to sit at de same table, and to eat de same food, as 
dat grand, dat majestique man, who are de terreur of de 
voleurs and de brigands of de metropolis ; and who is also, 
I for to suppose, a halterman and de chef of you common 
scoundrel. Milors and gentlemans, I feel dat I can perspire 
to no greataire honneur dan to be von common scoundrel- 



322 orator's mai^-ual. 

man myself; but, helas ! dat plaisir are not for me, as I are 
not freeman of your great cite, not von liveryman servant 
of von of you compagnies joint-stock. But I must not for- 
get de toast. Milors and gentlemans ! De immortal Shak- 
ispeare he have write, " De ting of beauty are de joy for 
nevermore." It is de ladies who are de toast. Vat is more 
entrancing dan de charmante smile, de soft voice, de vinking 
eye, of de beautiful lady! It is de ladies who do sweeten 
de cares of life. It is de ladies who are de guiding stars of 
our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer but not inebri- 
ate, and derefore, vid all homage to dere sex, de toast dat 
I have to propose is, " De Ladies! God bless dem all! " 

105. CAUDLE HAS BEEN MADE A MAS01>i .—Douglas Jerrold. 

Now, Mr. Caudle, — Mr. Caudle, I say: oh, you can't be 
asleep already, I know! Now, what I mean to say is this: 
there's no use, none at all, in our having any disturbance 
about the matter; but at last my mind's made up, Mr. Cau- 
dle: I shall leave you. Either I know all you've been doing 
to-night, or to-morrow morning I quit the house. No, no. 
There's an end of the married state, I think, — an end of all 
confidence between man and wife, — if a husband's to have 
secrets and keep 'em all to himself. Pretty secrets they 
must be, when his own wife can't know 'em. Not fit for 
any decent person to know, I'm sure, if that's the case. 
Now, Caudle, don't let us quarrel, there's a good soul: tell 
me, what's it all about? A pack of nonsense, I dare say; 
still, — not that I care much about it, — still, I should like to 
know. There's a dear. Eh? Oh, donH tell me there's nothing 
in it; I know better. I'm not a fool, Mr. Caudle; I know 
there's a good deal in it. Now, Caudle, just tell me a little 
bit of it. I'm sure I'd tell you anything. You know I 
would. Well? 

And you're not going to let me know the secret, eh? You 



SELECTIONS FOH DECLAMATION. 323 

mean to say — yoiire not? Now, Caudle, you know it's a 
hard matter to put me in a passion, — not that T care about 
the secret itself; no, I wouldn't give a button to know it, 
for it's all nonsense, I'm sure. It isn't the secret I care 
about; it's the slight, Mr. Caudle; it's the studied insult that 
a man pays to his wife when he thinks of going through the 
world keeping something to himself which he won't let her 
know. Man and wife one, indeed ! I should like to know how 
that can be when a man's a mason, — when he keeps a secret 
that sets him and his wife apart? Ha! you men make the 
laws, and so you take good care to have all the best of them 
to yourselves; otherwise a woman ought to be allowed a 
divorce when a man becomes a mason, — when he's got a 
sort of corner-cupboard in his heart, a secret place in his 
mind, that his poor wife isn't allowed to rummage. 

Was there ever such a man ? A man, indeed ! A brute ! 
— yes, Mr. Caudle, an unfeeling, brutal creature, when you 
might oblige me, and you won't. I'm sure I don't object to 
your being a mason; not at all. Caudle; I dare say it's a 
very good thing; I dare say it is: it's only your making a 
secret of it that vexes me. But you'll tell me, — you'll tell 
your own Margaret? You ivonH? You're a wretch, Mr. 
Caudle. 

106. THE JESTER GO^B^W^WD .-Horace Smith. 

One of the kings of Scanderoon, 

A royal jester, 
Had in his train a gross buffoon, 

Who used to pester 
The court with tricks inopportune, 
Venting on the highest folks his 
Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes. 

It needs some sense to play the fool, 

Which wholesome rule 
Occurred not to our jackanapes. 



324 oratok's manual. 

Who consequently found his freaks 
Lead to innumerable scrapes, 

And quite as many kicks and tweaks 
Which only seemed to make him faster 
Try the patience of his master. 

Some sin, at last, beyond all measure, 
Incurred the desperate displeasure 

Of his serene and raging Highness; 
Whether he twitched his most revered 
And sacred beard, 

Or had intruded on the shyness 
Of the seraglio, or let fly 
An epigram at royalty. 
None knows: his sin was an occult one; 
But record tells us that the Sultan 
Meaning to terrify the knave, 

Exclaimed, " Tis time to stop that breath; 
Thy doom is sealed; — presumptuous slave! 

Thou stand'st condemned to certain death. 
Silence, base rebel! — no replying; 

But such is my indulgence still. 

That, of my own free grace and will, 
I leave to thee the mode of dying." 

" Thy royal will be done, — 'tis just," 
Replied the wretch, and kissed the dust; 

*' Since, my last moments to assuage, 
Your Majesty's humane decree 
Has deigned to leave the choice to me, 

I'll die, BO please you, of old age! '* 

107. A MODEST WIT.— Anonymous. 

A supercilious nabob of the east — 

Haughty, being great — purse-proud, being rich, 
A governor, or general, at the least, — 

I have forgotten which, — 
Had in his family an humble youth, 

Who went from England in his patron's suite, 
An unassuming boy, and in truth 

A lad of decent parts, and good repute. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 325 

This youth had sense and spirit; 

But yet, with all his sense, 

Excessive diffidence 
Obscured his merit. 

One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine, 

His honor, proudly free, severely merry, 
Conceived it would be vastly fine 

To crack a joke upon his secretary. 

"Young man," he said, "by what art, craft or trade 
Did your good father gain a livelihood ? ' ' 

"He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, 
"And in his time was reckoned good." 

*'A saddler, eh! and taught you Greek, 

Instead of teaching you to sew ! 
*ray, why did not your father make 
A saddler, sir, of you? " 

Each parasite, then, as in duty bound. 

The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 

At length Modestus, bowing low. 

Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), 
" Sir, by your leave, I fain would know 

Your father's trade! " 

" My father's trade ! By heaven, that's too bad! 
My father's trade? Why, blockhead, are you mad? 
My father, sir, did never stoop so low — 
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know." 

" Excuse the liberty I take," 

Modestus said, with archness on his brow, 
'* Pray, why did not your father make 

A gentleman of you ? ' ' 



326 okatok's manual. 



108. THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND. 

Mr. Plum was retiring to rest one night, 
He had just undressed and put out the light, 

And pulled back the blind 

As he peeped from behind 
(Tis a custom with many to do so, you'll find), 

When, glancing his eye, 

He happened to spy 
On the blinds on the opposite side — oh, fie! 
Two shadows; each movement of course he could see 
And the people were quarreling, evidently. 
** Well, I never ! " said Plum, as he witnessed the strife, 
* ' I declare 'tis the minister beating his wife ! ' ' 
The minister held a thick stick in his hand. 
And his wife ran away as he shook the brand, 
Whilst her shrieks and cries were quite shocking to hear, 
And the sounds came across most remarkably clear. 

" Well, things are deceiving. 

But — ' seeing's believing,' " 
Said Plum to himself, as he turned into bed; 

" Now, who would have thought 

That man would have fought. 
And beaten his wife on her shoulders and head 

With a great big stick 

At least three inches thick? 
I am sure her shrieks quite filled me with dread. 

I've a great mind to bring 

The whole of the thing 
Before the church members; but no, I have read 
A proverb which says, 'Least said soonest mended.' " 
And thus Mr. Plum's mild soliloquy ended. 

But, alas! Mr. Pium s eldest daughter. Miss Jane, 
Saw the whole of the scene, and could not refrain 
From telling Miss Spot, and Miss Spot told again 
(Though of course in strict confidence) every one 
Whom she happened to know, what the parson had done. 
So the news spread abroad, and soon reached the ear 
Of the parson himself, and he traced it, I hear, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 327 

To the author, Miss Jane. Jane could not deny 
But at the same time she begged leave to defy 
The parson to prove she had uttered a lie. 

A church meeting was called: Mr. Plum made a speech. 
He said, " Friends, pray listen awhile, I beseech. 
What my daughter has said is most certainly true, . 
For I saw the whole scene on the same evening, too; 
But, not wishing to make an unpleasantness rife, 
I did not tell either my daughter or wife. 
But of course as Miss Jane saw the whole of the act, 
I think it but right to attest to the fact." 

" 'Tis remarkably strange! " the parson replied: 
" It is plain Mr. Plum must something have spied; 
Though the wife-beating story of course is denied; 
And in that I can say I am grossly belied." 
While he ransacks his brain, and ponders, and tries 
To recall any scene that could ever give rise 
To so monstrous a charge, — just then his vrife cries, 
' ' I have it, my love : you remember that night 
When I had such a horrible, terrible fright. 
We both were retiring that evening to rest, — 
I was seated, my dear, and but partly~undressed, 
When a nasty large rat jumped close to my feet; . 
My shrieking was heard, I suppose, in the street; • 
You caught up the poker and ran round the room. 
And at last knocked the rat, and so sealed its doom. 
Our shadows, my love, must have played on the blind; 
And this is the mystery solved, you will find." 



Don't believe every tale that is handed about; 
We have all enough faults and 7'eal failings, without 
Being burdened with those of which there's a doubt. 
If you study this tale, I think, too, you will find 
That a light should be placed in the front, not behind: 
For often strange shadows are seen on the blind. 



328 oratok's manual. 



109. THE MARCH TO MOSCOW .-Bobert Smthey. 

The Emperor Nap he would set off 
On a summer excursion to Moscow; 
The fields were green and the sky was blue,- 
Morbleu! Parbleu! 
What a pleasant excursion to Moscow ! 

The Emperor Nap he talked so big 

That he frightened Mr. Roscoe. 
John Bull, he cries, if you'll be wise, 
Ask the Emperor Nap if he will please 
To grant you peace, upon your knees. 

Because he is going to Moscow ! 
He'll make all the Poles come out of their holes, 
And beat the Russians, and eat the Prussians; 

For the fields are green, and the sky is blue,— 
Morbleu! Parbleu! 

And he'll certainly march to Moscow! 

And Counsellor Brougham was all in a fume 
At the thought of the march to Moscow : 
The Russians, he said, they were undone, 
And the great Fee-Faw-Fum 
Would presently come. 

With a hop, step and jump, unto London. 

But the Russians stoutly they turned to 

Upon the road to Moscow. 
Nap had to fight his way all through. 
They could fight, though they could not parlez vous; 
But the fields were green, and the sky was blue, — 
Morbleu! Parbleu! 
And so he got to Moscow. 

He found the place too warm for him. 

For they set fire to Moscow. 
To get there had cost him much ado, 
And then no better course he knew. 
While the fields were green, and the sky was blue, — 
Morbleu! Parbleu! 
But to march back again from Moscow. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 329 

The Russians they stuck close to him 

All on the road from Moscow. 
There was Tormazow and Jemalow, 
And all the others that end in ow; 
Milarodovitch and Jaladovitch, 
And Kavatschko witch, 
And all the others that end in itch; 
Schamscheff, Souchosaneff, 
And Schepaleff, 
And all the others that end in eff; 
Wasiltschikoff, Kostomaroff, 
And Tchoglokoff, 
And all the others that end in off; 
Rajeffsky, and Novereffsky, 
And Rieffsky, 
And all the others that end in effsky; 

Oscharoffsky and Rostoffsky, 
And all the others that end in offsky; 
And Platoff he play'd them off, 
And Shouvaloff he shovelled them off, 
And Markoff he marked them off. 
And Krosnoff he crossed them off, 
And Tuchkoff he touched them off, 
And Boraskoff he bored them off, 
And Kutousoff he cut them off. 
And Parenzoff he pared them off, 
And Worronzoff he worried them off. 
And Doctoroff he doctored them off, 
And Rodionoff he flog-ged them off. 
And, last of all, an admiral came, 
A terrible man with a terrible name, 
A name which you all know by sight very well, 
But which no one can speak, and no one can spell. 
They stuck close to Nap with all their might; 

They were on the left and on the right. 
Behind and before, and by day and by night; 
He would rather parlez vous than fight; 
But he looked white, and he looked blue, 
Morbleu! Parbleu! 
When parlez vous no more would do. 
For they remembered Moscow. 
14* 



330 oratoe's makual. 

And then came on the frost and snow, 

All on the road from Moscow. 
The wind and the weather he found, in that hour. 
Cared nothing for him, nor for all his power; 
For him who, while Europe crouched under his rod. 
Put his trust in his Fortune, and not in his God. 

Worse and worse every day the elements grew, 

The fields were so white and the sky so blue, 
Sacrebleu! Yentrebleu! 

What a horrible journey from Moscow ! 

110. HISTOEY OF JOHN BAY.— Thomas Hood. 

John Day, he was the biggest man 

Of all the coachman kind. 
With back too broad to be conceived 

By any narrow mind. 

The very horses knew his weight, 

When he was in the rear. 
And wished his box a Christmas-box, 

To come but once a year. 

Alas! against the shafts of love 

What armor can avail? 
Soon Cupid sent an arrow through 

His scarlet coat of mail. 

The bar-maid of " The Crown " he loved, 
From whom he never ranged; 

For, though he changed his horses there. 
His love he never changed. 

One day, as she was sitting down 

Beside the porter pump, 
He came and knelt, with all his fat. 

And made an offer plump. 

Said she, " My taste will never learn 

To like so huge a man; 
So I must beg you will come here 

As little as you can," 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 331 

But still he stoutly urged his suit, 

With vows, and sighs and tears, 
Yet could not pierce her heart, although 

He drove the " Dart " for years. 

In vain he wooed — in vain he sued, — 

The maid was cold and proud, 
And sent him off to Coventry 

While on the way to Stroud. 

He fretted all the way to Stroud, 

And thence all back to town; 
The course of love was never smooth. 

So his went up and down. 

At last, her coldness made him pine 

To merely bones and skin ; 
But still he loved like one resolved 

To love through thick and thin. 

** Oh, Mary! view my wasted back. 

And see my dwindled calf! 
Though I have never had a wife, 

I've lost my better half! " 

Alas ! in vain he still assailed, 

Her heart withstood the dint; 
Though he had carried sixteen stone. 

He could not move a flint! 

Worn out, at last he made a vow, 

To break his being's link. 
For he was so reduced in size, 

At nothing he could shrink. 

Now, some will talk in water's praise. 

And waste a deal of breath; 
But John, though he drank nothing else, 

He drank himself to death. 

The cruel maid, that caused his love. 

Found out the fatal close. 
For looking in the butt she saw 

The butt end of his woes. 



332 orator's MAl^UAL. 

Some say his spirit haunts the " Crown,' 

But that is only talk; 
For after riding all his life, 

His ghost objects to walk. 



111. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD BOQ.- Oliver Goldsmith. 

Good people all, of every sort, 

Give ear unto my song; 
And, if you find it wondrous short, — 

It cannot hold you long. 

In Islington there was a man. 

Of whom the world might say, 
That still a godly race he ran, — 

Whene'er he went to pray. 

A kind and gentle heart he haa. 

To comfort friends and foes; 
The naked every day he clad, — 

When he put on his clothes. 

And in that town a dog was found. 

As many dogs there be. 
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, 

And curs of low degree. 

This dog and man at first were friends; 

But when a pique began, 
The dog, to gain some private ends. 

Went mad and bit the man. 

Around from all the neighboring streets 

The wondering neighbors ran, 
And swore the dog had lost his wits 

To bite so good a man. 

The wound it seemed both sore and sad 

To every Christian eye; 
And while they swore the dog was mad, 

They swore the man would die. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 333 

But soon a wonder came to light, 

That showed the rogues they lied; 
The man recovered of the bite, 

The dog it was that died. 

112. TRUTH IN PARENTHESES.— T'/MWWO* Eood. 

I really take it very kind, — 

This visit, Mrs. Skinner; 
I have not seen you such an age — 

(The wretch has come to dinner!) 
Your daughters, too, what loves of girls! 

What heads for painters' easels! 
Come here, and kiss the infant, dears, — 

(And give it, p'rhaps, the measles!) 

Your charming little niece, and Tom, 

From Reverend Mr. Russell's; 
'Twas veiy kind to bring them both — 

(What boots for my new Brussels !) 
What! little Clara left at home! 

Well, now, I call that shabby! 
I should have loved to kiss her so — 

(A flabby, dabby babby!) 

And Mr. S., I hope he's well, — 

But, though he lives so handy, 
He never drops once in to sup — 

(The better for our brandy!) 
Come, take a seat, — I long to hear 

About Matilda's marriage; 
You've come, of course, to spend the day — 

(Thank Heaven! I hear the carriage!) 

What! must you go? — next time, I hope, 

You'll give me longer measure: 
Nay, I shall see you down the stairs — 

(With most uncommon pleasure!) 
Good-by! good-by! Remember, all, 

Next time you'll take your dinners — 
(Now, David, mind, — I'm not at home, 

In future, to the Skinners.) 



334 okatok's maj^ual. 



PATHETIC. 

228. Pathos requires concrete tones (§ 87) and semitonic melody 
(§ 89), effusive, sustained force (§ 109), a frequent use of tremulous 
stress (§ 105), sindpure (§ 181) or orotund (§ 135) quality. 

113. THE LEPEE.— iV^. P. Willis. 

"Room for the leper! Room!" And as he came 
The cry passed on, — "Room for the leper! Room! " 

* * * And aside they stood, 
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood — all 
Who met him on his way, — and let him pass. 
And onward through the open gate he came, 
A leper with the ashes on his brow. 
Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip 

A covering, stepping painfully and slow, 
And with a diflBcult utterance, like one 
Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, 
Crying, " Unclean! — Unclean! " 

* * * Day was breaking 
When at the altar of the temple stood 
The holy priest of God. The incense-lamp 
Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant 
Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof 
Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, 
Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. 

The echoes of the melancholy strain 

Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up. 

Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head 

Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off 

His costly raiment for the leper's garb, 

And with the sackcloth round him, and his Hp 

Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still 

Waiting to hear his doom : 

"Depart! depart, child 
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God, 
For he has smote thee with his chastening rod, 

And to the desert wild, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 

From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, 
That from thy plague his people may be free. 

" Depart! and come not near 
The busy mart, the crowded city, more, 
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er; 

And stay thou not to hear 
Voices that call thee in the way, and fly 
From all who in the wilderness pass by. 

' ' Wet not thy burning lip 
In streams that to a human dwelling ghde, 
Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide, 

Nor kneel thee down to dip 
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, 
By desert well, or river's grassy brink. 

"And pass not thou between 
The weary traveler and the cooling breeze, 
And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees 

Where human tracks are seen; 
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, 
Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. 

"And now depart ! and when 
Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, 
Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to him 

Who from the tribes of men 
Selected thee to feel his chastening rod. 
Depart, leper! and forget not God! " 

And he went forth, — alone! not one of all 
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name 
Was woven in the fibers of the heart 
Breaking within him now, to come and speak 
Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, 
Sick and heart-broken, and alone, — to die! 
For God had cursed the leper! 

It was noon, 
And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool 
In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, 
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched 



336 oeator's manual. 

The loathsome water to his fevered lips, 
Praying that he might be so blest, — to die ! 
Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, 
He drew the covering closer on his lip, 
Crying, " Unclean! Unclean! " and in the folds 
Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face. 
He fell upon the earth till they should pass. 
Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er 
The leper's prostrate form pronounced his name. 
"Helon! "—the voice was like the master-tone 
. Of a rich instrument, — most strangely sweet; 
And the dull pulses of disease awoke, 
And for a moment beat beneath the hot 
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. 
" Helon! arise! " and he forgot his curse, 
And rose and stood before him. 

Love and awe 
Mingled in the regard of Helon 's eye 
As he beheld the stranger. He was not 
In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow 
The symbol of a princely lineage wore; 
No followers at his back, nor in his hand 
Buckler, or sword, or spear, — yet in his mien 
Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, 
A kingly condescension graced his lips 
The lion would liave crouched to in his lair. 
His garb was simple, and his sandals worn; 
His stature modeled with a perfect grace; 
His countenance, the impress of a God, 
Touched with the open innocence of a child; 
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky 
In the sereuest noon; his hair unshorn 
Fell to his shoulders, and his curling beard 
The fullness of perfected manhood bore. 
He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, 
As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down. 
He took a little water in his hand 
And laid it on his brow, and said, " Be clean! " • 
And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood 
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 337 

And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow 
The dewy softness of an infant's stole. 
His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down 
Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshiped him 

114. THE BRIDGE OP SIQKS. — Thomas Hood. 

One more unfortunate, 
Weary of breath, 
Rashly importunate, 
Gone to her death ! 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care. 
Fashioned so slenderly, 
Young, and so fair! 

Look at her garments 
Clinging like cerements, 
Whilst the wave constantly 
Drips from her clothing; 
Take her up instantly. 
Loving, not loathing! 

Touch her not scornfully ! 
Think of her mournfully, 
Gently and humanly, — 
Not of the stains of her; 
All that remains of her 
Now is pure womanly. 

Make no deep scrutiny 
Into her mutiny, 
Rash and undutiful; 
Past all dishonor, 
Death has left on hei 
Only the beautiful 

Still, for all slips of hers, — 
One of Eve's family, — 
Wipe those poor lips of hers, 
Oozing so clammily, 
15 



338 oratoe's makual. 

Loop up her tresses 
Escaped from the comb, — 
Her fair auburn tresses, — 
Whilst wonderment guesses 
Where was her home ? 

Who was her father ? 
Who was her mother? 
Had she a sister? 
Had she a brother? 
Or was there a dearer one 
Still, and a nearer one 
Yet, than all other? 

Alas! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 
Under the sun ! 
Oh, it was pitiful! 
Near a whole city full, 
Home she had none. 

Sisterly, brotherly, 
Fatherly, motherly 
Feeling's had changed, — 
Love, by harsh evidence. 
Thrown from its eminence; 
Even God's providence 
Seeming estranged. 

Where the lamps quiver 
So far in the river. 
With many a light 
From window and casement, 
From garret to basement, 
She stood with amazement, 
Houseless by night. 

The bleak wind of March 
Made her tremble and shiver; 
But not the dark arch, 
Or the black flowing river; 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 339 

Mad from life's history, 
Glad to death's mystery, 
Swift to be hurled — 
Anywhere, anywhere 
Out of the world! 

In she plunged boldly,— 
No matter how coldly 
The rough river ran — 
Over the brink of it! 
Picture it, — think of it! 
Dissolute man ! 
Lave in it, drink of it. 
Then, if you can! 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care ! 
Fashioned so slenderly, 
Young and so fair! 

Ere her limbs, frigidly, 
Stiffen too rigidly, 
Decently, kindly. 
Smooth and compose them 5 
And her eyes, close them, 
Staring so blindly! 
Dreadfully staring 
Through muddy impurity. 
As when with the daring 
Last look of despairing 
Fixed on futurity. 

Perishing gloomily. 
Spurred by contumely, 
Cold inhumanity. 
Burning insanity, 
Into her rest! 
Cross her hands humbly, 
As if praying dumbly, 
Over her breast! 



840 orator's iManual. 

Owning her weakness, 
Her evil behavior, 
And leaving, with meekness, 
Her sins to her Savior! 



115. DAVID'S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM.— iV^. P. Willis. 

King David's limbs were weary. He had fled 

From far Jerusalem; and now he stood 

With his faint .^ecple for a little rest 

Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 

Of morn v/as stirring, and he bared his brow 

To its refreshing breath; for he had worn 

The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 

That he could see his people until now. 

They gathered round him on the fresh green bank 

And spoke their kindly words, and as the sun 

Rose up in heaven he knelt among them there, 

And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. 

Oh, when the heart is full — where bitter thoughts 

Come crowding thickly up for utterance, 

And the poor common words of courtesy 

Are such a m-ockery — how much 

The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer. 

He prayed for Israel — and his voice went up 

Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 

Whose love had been his shield — and his deep tones 

Grew tremulous. But, oh, for Absalom, 

For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 

The proud, bright being who had burst away 

In all his princely beauty to defy 

The heart that cherished him — for him he prayed, 

In agony that would not be controll'd, 

Strong supplication, and forgave him there 

Before his God for his deep sinfulness. 



The pall was settled. He who slept beneath 
Was straightened for the grave, and as the folds 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 841 

Sank to their still proportions, they betrayed 

The matchless symmetry of Absalom. 

The mighty Joab stood beside the bier 

And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, 

As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 

A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 

As if a trumpet rang, but the bent form 

Of David entered; and he gave command 

In a low tone to his few followers, 

And left him with the dead. 



The king stood still 
Till the last echo died; then, throwing off 
The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 
The pall from the still features of his cliild, 
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 
In the resistless eloquence of woe: 



"Alas! my noble boy! that thou shouldst die! 

Thou who wert made so beautifully fair! 
That death should settle in thy glorious eye. 

And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! 
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 
My proud boy, Absalom! 



" Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chiU 
As to my bosom I have tried to press thee! 

How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill 

Like a rich harp-string yearning to caress thee, 

And hear thy sweet ' my father! ' from those dumb 
And cold lips, Absalom! 



" But death is on thee! I shall hear the gush 
Of music, and the voices of the young; 

And life will pass me in the mantling blush. 

And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung; — 

But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
To meet me, Absalom! 



342 oratoe's man'ual. 

"And oh! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, 

How will its love for thee, as I depart, 

Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token! 

It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
To see thee, Absalom! 

"And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to give thee up. 
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee! — 

And thy dark sin! Oh, I could drink the cup. 
If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. 

May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
My lost boy, Absalom! " 

He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
A moment on his child; then, giving him 
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer. 
And, as if strength were given him of God, 
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
Firmly and decently — and left him there. 
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 



APPENDIX I. 
Hints for the Composition of Orations. 

Style. The phraseology of the oration should be modelled 
upon that of dignified conversation, which differs from the 
language of the essay both in being broken up into more short 
sentences, especially those in the form of exclamations 
and questions ; and in being, now and then, as in the climax, 
extended into longer sentences. The student can best cul- 



HINTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF ORATIONS. 343 

tivate an appropriate style by reading aloud orations of a 
high character, and by repeating over the phraseology of 
his own productions, when composing them, until he finds 
that his forms of expression fit the exigencies of delivery. 

Matter: Introductions and Conclusions. The general 
principles underlying these are the same. The beginner 
would better postpone thinking of either till after the main 
body of his discourse has been prepared. Otherwise, upon 
the Introduction especially, he may waste time, and end by 
making it the whole speech itself, or, at any rate, long 
enough for this. Moreover, the form of the introduction 
depends upon the form of the general presentation, which, 
therefore, should be first determined. As a rule both In- 
troductions and Conclusions should be brief. 

In character, they may be either direct or indirect. The 
direct introduction states what the speaker intends to tell 
or prove ; the direct conclusion sums up what he has told 
or proved, e.g. 

Browning begins his poem entitled " Sordello " by stating 
what he intends to tell : — 

Who will may hear Sordello' s story told. 

He ends it by stating what he has told : — 

Who would has heard Sordello' s story told. 

Wendell Phillips begins his oration on Toussaint L'Ouver- 
ture by stating what he intends both to tell and to prove. 

'•' I have been requested to offer you a sketch of one of 
the most remarkable n>en of the last generation, the great 
Toussaint L'Ouverture. My sketch is at once a biography 
and an argument, — a biography of a negro statesman and 
soldier, an argument in behalf of the race from which he 
sprang." 

He ends his speech on "A Metropolitan Police,'' the 



844 ORATORS MANUAL. 

subject of which, was really agitation, by stating what he 
has proved : — 

•' Agitate and we shall jet see the laws of Massachusetts 
rule even in Boston. " 

The indirect Introduction or Conclusion gives either a 
statement of a general principle unfolded in the speech, or 
a story or quotation illustrating a specific application of 
this principle. 

Henry Clay begins his speech '' In Defence of the Ameri- 
can System '^ by stating a general principle, thus : — 

" In one sentiment, Mr. President, expressed by the 
honorable gentleman from South Carolina, though perhaps 
not in the sense intended by him. I entirely concur. I 
agree with him that the decision on the system of policy 
embraced in this debate involves the future destiny of this 
growing country.^' 

Edward Everett ends his oration •' On Temperance " by 
stating this general principle : — 

"Let us, sir, mingle discretion with our zeal; and the 
greater will be our success in this pure and noble enter- 
prise.'' 

Daniel Webster begins his great speech, "In Reply to 
Hayne," with this illustration : — 

" When the mariner has been tossed for many days in 
thick weather and on an unknown sea, he naturally avails 
himself of the first pause in the storm, the earliest glance 
of the sun. to take his latitude and ascertain how far the 
elements have driven him from his true course." 

Edward Everett ends his oration on " The Importance of 
Scientific Knowledge " with this illustration : — 

•• When an acorn falls upon an unfavorable spot, and 
decays there, we know the extent of the loss — it is that of 
a tree like the one from which it fell ; but when the mind of 
a rational being, for want of culture, is lost to the great 
ends for which it was created, it is a loss which no man can 
measure, either for time or for eternity." 



HINTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF ORATIONS. 345 

Theme. There are two principal kinds of subjects, 
those telling stories and those presenting arguments. 

Subjects telling stories may be subdivided into the his- 
torical, which deal with events as influencing persons ; and 
the biographical, which deal with persons as influencing 
events. 

Subjects presenting arguments may be subdivided into 
the J) hilosoph leal, which unfold principles ; andthe^^rac^icaZ, 
which apply them. 

Either a story or an argument, whether long or short, 
whether used in an essay or oration, is effective in the degree 
in which it brings out a point or points. A story illustrates 
the point, an argument proves it. This is the chief fact to 
be borne in mind when preparing anything for the public. 
The subject need not be new ; but it should be given a new 
application. Just as the painter when he copies a familiar 
landscape, by putting into it his own individuality, and 
causing us to see it with his own eyes, can make his picture 
original and artistic, so a writer or speaker, by giving a new 
point to an old story can make it far more interesting and 
effective than a new story could possibly be, in case it had 
no point ; i.e. no idea which it suggested or enforced. 

Special Aim of Special Subjects. The particular point 
to be brought out in the treatment of a subject depends 
upon its purpose. As a rule, the purpose of an historical 
subject is to inform. A biographical, dwelling as it does 
upon personal characteristics and exemplifications of per- 
sonal merit or demerit, is usually intended to excite to 
emulation or the opposite. If one be speaking, for instance, 
of "The Fall of Granada," the "Revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes," or " The Expulsion of the Jews from Spain," he 
should do so in order to illustrate the effects upon progress 
or upon a country's prosperity, of religious intolerance or 
bigotry ; if he be treating of O'Connell or Garrison, he may 
do so in order to illustrate the effects of agitation, or if of 



846 oratoe"s manual. 

Milton or Wordsworth, to illustrate the effects of confidence 
in one's own powers. To thoughtful minds, facts always 
illustrate principles. If, in connection with the facts, one 
does not discover and present, or at least suggest these 
principles with his facts, people will not think that he has 
any thoughts worthy of their consideration. 

The purpose of a philosophical argument is to convince, 
and of a practical one is to persuade. If, keeping these 
ends in view, one puts into his production all that will 
secure them, and leaves out of it all that will not, he will 
invariably command attention and sympathy. It is talk 
that is scattering which distracts and disaffects an audience. 
When one is aiming straight at a mark, they are interested 
in seeing, at least, whether or not he will hit it. 

The Treatment of the Theme. There are methods 
connected with what in rhetoric is termed invention, 
through which, when no thoughts concerning a subject 
readily suggest themselves, a man can come to have 
thoughts concerning it, and can develop them in an inter- 
esting and effective way. Such methods are almost always 
acquired, being a result of conscious or unconscious culti- 
vation. As a rule, a man who composes well is one who 
first desires to do so, and then, by trying hard to accom- 
plish his purpose, ends by training himself thoroughly for 
the work. 

Dividing a Subject Logically. In order to have 
something to say, a speaker must begin by dividing his 
one general subject of consideration into different special 
subjects of consideration. These will furnish him with 
material for presentation, even if he does no more than to 
state and explain them. But to do the latter in a manner 
which will cause an audience to regard and remember what 
is said, necessitates divisions conceived and arranged logi- 
cally, as it is termed. The ability to present thought in 
this manner, however, is not so much a matter of logic as 



HINTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF ORATIONS. 847 

of art. As such, it does not invariably necessitate either 
logical training or even a logical mind. The art too, as 
will be shown here, may be acquired with comparative 
ease. Many persons acquire it naturally by applying 
unconsciously to the subject a principle underlying the 
expression of thought in many other relations. Why can- 
not other persons be instructed so as to apply the same 
principle consciously ? They certainly can be. The prin- 
ciple is that, in accordance with which, when we have 
any thought in mind to which we try to give expression, 
we instinctively associate it with certain sights or sounds 
of the external world. Otherwise, as thought itself is 
invisible and inaudible, we might not be able to make 
others acquainted with it. Eor instance, this term expres- 
sion, just used, means a pressing out — an operation that 
can be affirmed literally only of a material substance which 
is forcibly expelled from another material substance • but 
because Ave recognize a possibility of comparison between 
this operation and the way in which immaterial thought is 
made to leave the immaterial mind, we use the term as we 
do. So with thousands of terms like understanding, up- 
rightness, clearness, fairness, etc. Carrying out the same 
principle, the ancients represented whole sentences through 
the use of hieroglyphics ; and geometricians and scientists, 
even of our own times, represent whole arguments — the 
logical relations of abstract ideas and the physical rela- 
tions of intangible forces — through the use of lines and 
figures. In a similar way and with a similar justification 
we can apply the principle to the expression of thought in 
a subject considered as a whole. 

The sights or sounds in external nature to which we 
may compare this thought may be conceived of as occupying 
chiefly a certain portion of space, as a house does ; or of time, 
as a melody does. Most things, however, and all things 
having life, while chiefly occupying the one or the other 
of these elements, actually occupy both, or, at least, sug- 



848 orator's manual. 

gest both ; like a man's body, for instancej which has both 
shape and movements. For this reason, the arts of sight 
must usually represent in space not only what occupies it 
but also time. Thus a picture often portrays an event ; and 
this requires a suggestion, at least, of a series of actions. 
In fact the ability to embody such a suggestion furnishes 
one reason why a product of the higher art of painting 
ranks above a photograph. On one side of a canvas, for 
example, a painter may depict a man as drawing a bow, 
and on the other side of the same canvas he may depict 
an arrow that has evidently just left the bow as having hit 
its mark. In the arts of sound, among which we must 
class all compositions involving a use of language, a corre- 
sponding principle operates. Think how large a proportion 
of the most artistic, in the sense of being the most effec- 
tive passages in poems and orations, describe visible persons 
or events. The words occupy time ; but they represent to 
imagination, so that one seems to see them, face to face, 
things that exist only in space. 

Not merely as judged by separate illustrations, but by 
general arrangement, that essay or oration is the most suc- 
cessful which presents the thought in this depicted or 
graphic way, — a way that causes the reader or hearer to 
seem to see the whole line of the argument mapped out 
before him, the entire framework of the ideas built ^p and 
standing in front of him. But before a writer or speaker 
can produce such an effect, he himself must be able to see 
his subject lying before him, or rising in front of him ; in 
other words, he must be able to conceive of it as compara- 
ble to some external object whose shape or movement can 
be perceived. The principle that is now to be unfolded 
being based upon this kind of a conception is, therefore, 
of such a nature as not merely to simplify the work of 
dividing subjects, but also to make the presentation of 
them more effective. 

Let us first consider the methods of forming two general 



HINTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF OKATIONS. 349 

divisions suggested by the appearances of objects. Bear- 
ing in mind that we are to conceive of our topic as repre- 
sented by something that is visible, we may start by 
remarking that this may be perceived either in space, in 
which case it has location ; or ill time, in which case it has 
movement. If we perceive it in space alone, we may 
notice The Object and also Its Relations to other objects, 
or — what is the same thing expressed differently — we 
may notice Itself and also Its Surroimclings. This will 
give us two divisions into one or the other of which can be 
put everything that it is possible to say about the object, 
and, for this reason, about the topic also, which the object 
is supposed to represent. These two divisions, thus de- 
rived, may now suggest others analogous to them in princi- 
ple, but differing in phraseology in order to meet the 
requirements of different subjects to which they are to be 
applied. Instead, for instance, of saying Object and Its 
Relations, we may say, if treating of persons. Individual 
and Community ; if of their character. Private and Pub- 
lic ; if of their influence, as in the case of a statesman. At 
Rome and Abroad; if we are dealing with corporate as 
well as individual life, we may discuss their Character and 
Associations; or their Constitution and Circumstances ; or, 
if we are referring to principles, natural or philosophic, we 
may speak of their Elements and Affinities, or their Essence 
and Environment. Practically, in fact, there is no end of 
the ways in which we may change our phraseology, and yet 
not depart from the general method in accordance with 
which it is suggested. 

Again, if we choose, we may confine our attention to 
only the object itself. In this case, a thorough examina- 
tion must include a consideration of its Outside and also of 
its Inside, or, to use the technical terms that conventionally 
designate these respectively, its Conditions and also its 
Qualities. Here again we have two divisions, into one or 
the other of which we can put everything that it is pos- 



850 orator's manual. 

sible to say about the object considered only in itself. And 
changing the phraseology in the way and for the reasons 
indicated in the last paragraph, we may go on and form 
such divisions as Externally and Internally^ Superficially 
and Intrinsically^ Appearance and Reality, Class and Kind, 
Reputation and Character, Accident and Essential, Form 
and Spirit, and others like these. 

Once more, we may consider the object only in time, or 
as related to movement ; and this again will lead us to put 
everything into two divisions, namely the Object and its 
ActionSy analogous to which we can form other divisions, 
like In Itself and Its Results, Cause and Effect, Character 
and Influence, Nature and Acquirements, Matter and Man- 
ner, Means and Methods, Theory and Practice, and Prin- 
ciple and Tendencies. 

Recalling now what has been said in the three paragraphs 
above, we shall notice that the Relations of the object as 
suggested by what surrounds it in space, the Object itself, 
and its Actions as they are perceived by its movements in 
time, can also furnish divisions, into which to put all that 
can be said of an object or of a topic. But holding still to 
our purpose, which is to compare the topic as a whole to 
some perceptible object, let us suppose this, first, to be one 
appearing in space, and, therefore, characterized mainly by 
shape ; and let us make three divisions suggested by it, 
somewhat analogous, though not closely to Relations, Object, 
and Actions. Plato was evidently thinking of shape when 
he said that every work of art must have Feet, Trunk, and 
Head. Following out his suggestion, we may make divi- 
sions like Bottom, Sides, and Top ; Foundation, Walls, and 
Roof; Mineral, Vegetable, d^ndi Animal ; Physical, Intellect- 
ual and Spiritual ; Grounds, Beliefs, and Speculations ; 
Certainties, Probabilities, and Surmises ; Fact, Theory, and 
Practice, etc. 

Kow let us compare our topic to an object appearing in 
time, and therefore characterized mainly by movement. 



HINTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF ORATIONS. 351 

This is evidently what Aristotle did when he said that 
every work of art should have Beginning, Middle, and End. 
Following out his suggestion, we make divisions like Past, 
Present, diMdi Future; What I recall. What I see, What I 
anticipate ; Antecedents, Achievements, and Expectations ; 
Source, Nature, and Results ; Derivation, Condition, and 
Tendencies; History, Character, and Destiny, and so on 
indefinitely. 

Going back now to the fact mentioned in the fourth par- 
agraph above this, namely, that we may divide the object 
into its Outside and its Inside, or into its Condition and 
Qualities, we may extend Relations, Object, and Actions 
into Relations, Conditions, Qualities, and Actions, and 
thus obtain four divisions. These, too, by the way, are the 
very terms that are used in logic to indicate the leading 
attributes of objects, and a knowledge of which is espe- 
cially helpful when one is describing or defining ; as when 
we say of a man, that in his relations he is social, in his 
condition healthy, in his qualities intellectual, and in his 
actions energetic. Making the same changes in phraseology 
as in the previous cases, we may parallel these divisions 
by such as the following : as applied to a person or com- 
munity, by Surroundings, Constitution, Disposition, and 
Occupation; by Associations, Culture, Temperament, and 
Achievements : as applied to natural objects or systems of 
philosophy or government, by Connections, Phases, Char- 
acter, and Influence ; by Affinities, Forms, Elements, and 
Operations ; by Rank, State, Kind, and Powers, and so on. 

So far, our divisions have all been based upon a com- 
parison of a topic to the conditions of an object, as appear- 
ing either in space or time. But, besides conditions, the 
object, as has been said, has qualities. This fact suggests 
that we may ask. What kinds of Relations, of Conditions, 
of Qualities, or of Actions can be affirmed of the object ? and 
also that the answer in each case can suggest divisions for 
our topic. Thus, the idea of the kinds of Relations suggests 



352 orator's manual. 

that we can consider those which are on One Side 
and the Other Side ; Before and Behind ; Antecedents and 
Consequents ; Means and Ends ; at One Extreme and at 
the Other Extreme ; that the object has a Bright Side and 
a i)aryk ^Sic^e ; and as applied to abstract ideas, that it may 
have certain features that are Advantageous and others 
Disadvantageous ; certain, Superior and others Inferior, 

The idea of the kinds of Conditions suggests that we 
may consider some High and others Low ; some Bich and 
others Foor ; some Prosperous and others Unprosperous ; 
some JSfoble and others Ignoble; some Free and others 
Restrained ; some Susceptible and others Insensible ; some 
;S^a/e and others Dangerous, etc. 

The idea of the kinds of Qualities suggests that we may 
consider some Good and others Bad ; some Fine and others 
Coarse; some Common and others Uncommon; some 
Pleasant and others Disagreeable; some Admirable and 
others Despicable; some Trustworthy and others Untrust- 
worthy ; some Positive and others Negative, etc. 

The idea of the kinds of Actions suggests that we may 
consider some /S7ow and others i^as?^ ; some Beneficial and 
others Injurious ; some Skilful and others Bungling ; some 
Efficient and others Inefficient ; some Sid^jective and others 
Objective ; some Profitable and others Unprofitable ; some 
Peaceable and others Hostile. 

Such formulse as these can be used, first, for the main 
divisions of a topic. Suppose, for insta^nce, that one be 
asked to address a gathering interested in a certain cause. 
Keferring to it, he will have something to say, in case 
only he can think of divisions like these : What I recall, 
What I see, What I anticipate. Or suppose he is to 
preach on a text like " I am not ashamed of the gospel of 
Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation," he can 
present the subject both textually and logically by saying, 
I am not ashamed of the gospel, because, in its Source, it 
is of Grod ; in its Nature, a power ; and, in its Results^ 
salvation. 



HINTS FOK THE COMPOSITION OF ORATIONS. 353 

The formulae can be used also for subdivisions of the 
main divisions. Suppose that one be treating of Political 
Life, he can speak of it, first, in itself, and under this he 
can refer to its Character and its Influence, and to the 
latter both At Home and Abroad. Then, second, he can 
speak of its Surroundings, both Private and Public ; and 
of both of these he may mention what is Advantageous 
and Disadvantageous ; and, perhaps too. Pleasant and 
Disagreeable, 

Two divisions, of course, one of which is complementary 
of the other, are more in accordance with the principles of 
logic than are a larger number. At the same time, these 
are not necessarily illogical. Aristotle, for instance, in 
Book 2, Chapter X. of his Khetoric, says, " All things are 
done by men either not of themselves, or of themselves. 
Of things not done by men of themselves, some they 
do from necessity, others they do from chance ; of those 
done from necessity, a part are from external force, the 
others are from force of natural constitution. So that all 
that men do, not of themselves, are either from chance or 
from nature or force." 

The number of divisions may be extended greatly with 
no great detriment to the logical effect, if only the order 
of observation be followed. The sole reason why certain 
of these divisions — those like Foundation, Walls, and Roof, 
for instance — are important, is because of the order that 
they introduce into description. A hearer could not be inter- 
ested in an account of a cathedral, nor remember it, if the 
describer were to mention one feature of the foundation, then 
one of the roof, then one of the walls, and then another of 
the roof again, and so on. As a rule, he is expected to say 
everything that he has to say of the foundation before 
beginning about the walls ; and to end describing these 
before referring to the roof. Because in such cases all that 
is essential is to preserve the order of thought, it is feasi- 
ble sometimes to analyze one or more of the factors of divis- 



354 okator's manual. 

ions, such as Individual and Community, into many heads 
like Individual, Community, Race, and Humanity ; or divis- 
ions, like At Home and Abroad into Home, Town, District, 
Country, World, and Universe. Often it is possible to 
fulfil the requirements of order, and, at the same time, 
because of allied principles of analysis, together with 
slightly different methods of applying them, to combine 
certain of the sets of divisions that have been made.^ 

There is a connection worth noticing now between the 
methods that have suggested all these sets of divisions, and 
a well-known rule of rhetoric, which is, that in treating a 
subject, thought should move by successive steps from the 
generic to the specific, or from the specific to the generic. 
This connection is owing to the fact that, in passing from 
the generic to the specific, thought usually advances by a 
process of analysis from what has only to do with the rela- 
tions or, at least, the environments of a subject to that 
which may be said to belong to it more specifically,being, 
as it were, at its core. Again, passing onward from this, 
thought usually does so in order to show the actions or 
influence of that which is in this sense specific upon that 
which is more generic in its environments and relations. 
Dr. Mark Hopkins, for instance, in his " Outline Study of 
Man," illustrates this method by starting with the general 
conception of being, and passing from that through Organ- 
ized Being, Animal, Vertebrate, Mammal, and Man to a 
specific Man. Then, affirming something of this man, he 
retraces his steps exactly in reverse order, applying what 
has been said, first, to Man, then Mammal, Vertebrate, Ani- 
mal, Organized Being, and finally to Being. So one may 
start with the general conception of Humanity, and advan- 
cing through Race and Country to Government, and affirming 
something of this apply what is said in succession to Coun- 
try, Race, and Humanity. So moving through Physical, 
Intellectual, and Moral to Spiritual, he may apply what is 
said of this in succession to it in its Moral, Intellectual, and 

*Thus the last two on page 110 may give us Rise, History, Culmination, Charac 
ter. Decline, Destiny. 



HINTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF ORATIONS. 855 

Physical relations ; and moving throngh Nature, Human 
Nature, and Esthetic Nature to Art, he may apply what is 
said to Msthetic Nature, Human Nature, and Nature. 

Whenever we begin by observing in this way the more 
general relations or features of a subject, and pass from 
these to those that are more specific, and having treated of 
the latter go on to show the influence that they exert first 
in their more specific and then in their more generic rela- 
tions, we pursue an order of thought which fulfils the prin- 
ciple underlying all the methods that have been here 
unfolded. 

Enough has been said now. however, to make clear what 
this principle is, as well as to suggest the methods through 
which it may be applied. It is hardly necessary to add 
that the sets of divisions that have been given illustrat- 
ing these may be almost infinitely varied, or that, for this 
reason, there is no necessity that they should be used or 
imitated slavishly. In fact, it is hardly possible that, for 
any length of time, the}^ should be used thus. The princi- 
ple at the base of them is so easy to understand and mas- 
ter that any endeavor to carry it out will, after a few 
attempts, give a man such a command of it as to render 
him practically independent of any prescribed methods of 
procedure. 

For convenience in consultation, all that has been said 
on this subject is summarized in the chart on pages 110, 
111. The pupil who will use the chart when preparing the 
outline of a speech will soon become so familiar with the 
principles of observation in accordance with which the 
different classes or divisions are derived, as to be able to 
do without it. 

Rules for testing Successful Divisions. First, to 
secure unity, there should be one principle in accordance 
with which all the divisions are made. 

It would not be proper to divide Korth Americans into 
Canadians, Yankees, Southerners, and Mexicans. The first 



356 orator's manual. 

and last divisions are made upon the principle of naming 
people after the countries to which they belong ; the other 
divisions are not. 

Second : To secure distinctness, the thought in each 
division should exclude thought properly belonging to 
other divisions. 

The word Southerners in the last example does not 
necessarily exclude Mexicans ; nor in dividing the powers 
of a man into physical, nervous, and mental, would either 
physical or mental exclude nervous. 

Third : To secure completeness, all the divisions taken 
together should exhaust the subject. 

North America contains more people of more nations 
than those mentioned in the example illustrating the first 
rule. 

Fourth : To secure progress the divisions should be 
arranged so as successively to make an advance in the line 
of thought. 

Exactly what constitutes an advance in the line of 
thought depends upon the circumstances and aim of the pres- 
entation. A physician, wishing to make clear some principle 
ruling in the physical nature, might begin by speaking 
first of the operation of an analogous principle in the men- 
tal nature, whereas a metaphysician wishing to prove some- 
thing with reference to the mental nature would more 
appropriately arrange his divisions in the opposite order. 

EXAMPLES FOE PKACTICE. (See chart, pp. 358, 359.) 
1. Should American University Students wear the Cap and Gown? 

FOUR DIVISIONS, EACH BEING SUBDIVIDED INTO TWO. 

I. Relations. II. Conditions. 

a. History and Associations a. Eorms and Phases. 

Abroad and at Home. Affirmative should state who 

Affirmative should show desira- should be entitled to wear cap 

bility of preserving the good old and gown and when and where, 

academic customs of the Eng- e.g., upper class-men, on public 



HINTS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF ORATIONS. 357 

lish universities in the American, occasions, etc., and show the ben- 

their offspring. efits of such distinctions. 

Negative should show un-Ameri- Negative should deny the power 

can nature of the custom of class- of discrimination as to person, 

distinction, and refute the theory time, and place, and picture the 

of English character of American resulting incongruities of outer 

universities by showing presence and inner garments, of appear- 

of other elements than English, ance and surroundings, etc. 
such as German, etc. 

III. Qualities. IV. Actions. 

a. Spirit and Character. b. Tendencies and Results. 

Affirmative should uphold the Affirmative should show how a 

custom as giving a needed dignity more general respect for scholar- 

to the character of the American ship would be fostered, 

scholar. Negative should show the dis- 

Negative should deplore the trust and envy toward the edu- 

priggishness and exclusiveness of cated classes, which it would tend 

the custom. to increase among the uneducated. 

2. Influence of Athletics upon College Studies. 

3. Should the Grading System be Abolished ? 

4. Should Prizes and Honors be Abolished ? 

5. Should Inter-collegiate Athletic Contests be Abolished ? 

6. Should Greek be omitted from the Requirements for the A.B. 
Degree ? 

7. Should Latin, be a Requirement for every College and Univer- 
sity Degree ? 

8. Should Gymnastic Exercises be Compulsory ? 

9. Should the Class System be Abolished in Eavor of the Course 
System ? 

10. Should the Elective System prevail after 

a. Entrance to College, or (a second theme), 

b. Freshman Year, or 

c. Sophomore Year ? 

11. Should Attendance on Chapel Exercises be Compulsory ? 

12. Should Class Honors be Decided by Contest, or Election ? 

13. Is the Social Spirit of the College Club Detrimental to the Lit- 
erary Spirit of the Debating Society ? 

14. Should Work on College Publications be accepted in place of 
Required College Exercises in Composition ? 

15. Should Independent Student Organizations (such as Glee and 
Sketch Clubs) receive Assistance from the College ? 



358 ORATORS MANUAL. 









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HI^'TS FOR THE COMPOSITION OF OKATiONS. 359 



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Midriff, or Dia- 
phragm. 

Lungs. 

Windpipe, or 

Trachea. 
Voicebox, or 

Larynx. 
Upper Part of the 
Throat, or Pharynx, 
Mouth. 
Tongue. 

Nasal Cauities. 
Hard Palate. 
Soft Palate. 
Eustachian Tube= 



APPENDIX II. 

The Organs for Vocal Expression. 

Besides the organs of articulation, considered on pp. 
17-2:3, three other classes of organs are involved in vocal- 
ization. They are ordinarily termed the Motor Organs^ 
the Essential Organs, and the Organs of Intensification. 

To the first class, the Motor, belong the organs of re- 
spiration, the lungs and bronchial tubes, and the muscles of 
the diaphragm and ribs surrounding them. {See Plate I.) 

The essential organs are in the larynx. (^See Plate II.) 




Plate II. — Side View of the 
VoiCEBox, OR Larynx, show- 
ing THE Interior of it, the 
RIGHT Plate being removed. 



Pyramids {Arytenoid 

Cartilages). 
Front Projections of tiie 

Pyramids. 
Leuer of the Right Pyramid. 
Upper Border of the Ring. 
3. Vocal Ligaments. 
Lid. 
Shield. 

Left Upper Horn of the Shield. 
Ring. 
Windpipe, or Trachea, 



361 



862 orator's manual. 

a. It surmounts the trachea, or windpipe, and is connected by 
the hyoid hone to the base of the tongue. During the act of 
swallowing, by an upward movement against the base of the 
tongue, it is covered by the epiglottis. Beneath this covering lies 
the cavity of the larynx. This is divided by a central contraction, 
called the glottis, into a conical chamber above and a cylindrical 
one below. The glottis is bounded by the projection of two liga- 
mentous bands called the vocal cords (though the term * ' cord " is 
misleading), and that of the ventricular hands above. The ventricle 
of the larynx, situated behind the latter, intensifies the sounds 
emitted by the vocal cords. These cords are attached to the 
thyroid {dvpeos, a shield,) the protecting cartilage of the whole 
larynx, the arytenoids {apvTaiva, cup), and these in turn to the 
cricoid {kplkos, ring), the fundamental cartilage. The muscles 
moving these cartilages affect the tension of the vocal cords and 
their vibratory length, for, the cords being arranged somewhat in 
the shape of a V, contraction of the apex has the same result in 
increasing the pitch of the sounds emitted, as the shortening by 
the hand of the strings on the neck of a guitar. But pitch is not 
entirely dependent upon the larynx used as a stringed instrument. 
It depends also upon variation in length of the resonating columns 
of air passing through the cords as through reeds. 

Exercises of the Vocal Cords. (Attack.) 

I. Holding the breath, repeat as rapidly as possible, a soft, short 
sound, between that of u in up and oo in coo — whispered — then 
softly vocal — and up and down the scale. Make it in the forward 
part of the mouth, rather than in the throat, and never after it 
begins to irritate the organs. 

II. If you have a voice of a breathing quality, occasionally, for 
a few seconds, hold the breath and force it against the vocal cords 
so as to grate them together, emitting a half -vocalized, constantly 
interrupted sound. 

The organs of Intensification (Resonance), in addition 
to the tubes and chambers of the lungs and larynx, are 
the upper throat, or pharynx, the nasal cavities^ the mouth, 
or buccal cavity {bucca, cheek), the hard and soft palates, 
and the uvula. {See Plate III.) 



ORGANS FOK VOCAL EXPEESSIOX. 



863 



8.. The pharynx is a connecting chamber for the passage from 
the stomach (the oesophagus), and from the lungs (the larynx), 
and those from the drums of the ears (Eustachian tubes), and 
from the nose. It is the stage proper of the theatre of the voice. 
While it is important that its entrances and exits and resonat- 
ing "flies" should be kept open and free from obstruction (the 
Eustachian tubes are easily inflated if mouth and nose be closed), 
the chief organ of intensification under control of the will is 

b. The nose (nasal cavities). Respiration during vocal exercises 
should usually be through it alone. Its resonance results mainly 
from the vibration of 

c. The hard and soft palates. The former being the hard, bony 
portion that arches the front of the mouth, serves also as a re- 



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Uvula. — I 

Tonsil. 

Fauces. 






-~hy Hard Palate. 




^-(\ — Soft Palate. 




'/ Anterior pal- 
'■ atine arch 


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: , Posterior pa- 
latine Arch 




Pharynx. 







Plate III. — View of Parts seen when the Mouth is widely open.^ 



fleeter of sound for the buccal cavity. It is the dome of the 
theatre. The soft palate is the movable covering and partition 
at the back of the mouth. As a covering it is a sort of "pro- 
scenium arch " over the stage, or pharynx, and is supported by 
two muscular ridges on either side, which are called the " pillars 

> The above illustrative cut is taken from " The Meohanism of the Human 
Voice," by permission of E. S. Werner, publisher. 



864 orator's manual. 

of the fauces. These can be brought near together at will, nar- 
rowing the space between them, called " the isthmus of the 
fauces." 

As a partition, the soft palate answers to the curtain of the 
stage, affecting resonance by closing at will the openings of the 
pharynx to the nose and mouth. To do the first, its pendent por- 
tion, the uvula, is drawn backward, and a cushion is formed 
. behind it, stopping the nasal passages. The second is accomplished 
by lowering the soft palate and lifting the back of the tongue till 
the two meet. 

d. It is essential that, throughout all vocalization not imitative, 
the underlying muscles of the organs of resonance should be in a 
passive state, leaving the surfaces free to vibrate. With Ameri- 
cans, as a rule, these muscles, especially those below and about 
the nasal passages, share wrongly in the active work of articula- 
tion, which is only appropriately done near the tip of the tongue 
and the lips. As a result, the sweetness of the voice is impaired 
and catarrh and laryngitis are contracted, Demosthenes, by prac- 
tising articulation with a mouth filled with pebbles, not only cured 
his stammering, but, as we now know, did so by breaking up the 
connection, merely sympathetic, between the muscles intended 
for articulation and for resonance. 

SUMMARY OP EXERCISES TO BE PRACTISED DAILY FOR FIFTEEN 

MINUTES. 

1. Active and Passive chest, abdomen and sides alternately, — 
with empty and full lungs. Arm movements, page 23. 

2. Inhale and exhale slowly, — first at abdomen, then at lower 
sides, — then at chest. 

3. With elevated chest, inhale and exhale at abdomen and 
lower sides. 

4. Exhale through one nostril with compressed lips, with wliis- 
pered ah. 

5. Keep moving tongue's tip from lower teeth back along roof 
of mouth. 

6. With tongue's tip out, keep moving its root and the larynx 
as if swallowing. 

7. With fingers between teeth, keep opening lips. 

8. Look in a mirror and keep lifting uvula. 

9. Sit straight, half fill lungs, hold abdomen stiff — and empty 
lungs with puffs of p (uh)-p-p. 



ORGANS FOR VOCAL EXPRESSION. 865 

10. Repeat several times from abdomen wo ; waw ; and oi, ai, ou. 

11. Vocalize and whisper uh, uh, till. 

12. Repeat rapidly until lungs are emptied, la, la, la. Roll r-r-r. 
Sound ng, ng, k ; and ee, ee, mm. 

13. Sound each following initial consonant alone ; then with 
the vowels ; and then witli all the letters following both itself and 
the other initial consonants : 



boob 


goig 


lail 


dod 


maum 


thath 


jouj 


nahn 


rer 



14. With full orotund tone (see § 134) and deep breathing, re- 
peat, "5R0II on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Independence, 
constitution, abounding, amazement." 



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